


The Good Ole Boys

by posingasme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Drugs, Explicit Language, F/M, Guns, M/M, Past Ruby/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:58:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 29,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5957962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Dean haven't done much with their lives. They spend their days looking for work, and their evenings are spent with their motorcycles and beer. At home, they care for their father, broken from before they can remember. </p><p>Then comes the stranger who claims to be family, and the men trying to catch him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How's That Working for You?

There is a phenomenon in the American South that doesn't seem to exist anywhere else, a phrase to describe a type of person, which is nearly impossible to explain to someone who isn't native to the culture. Those who fit the term are often given other monikers, by others who don't truly understand.

Dean Winchester, after all, was not a redneck. He wasn't a country thug or white trash. He wasn't a bumpkin, a hillbilly, a yokel or a hayseed, or any a number of things someone might try to call him.

Dean Winchester was a good ole boy, and so was his brother Sam. They were too loud, often drunk, too bold. They partied too late, drove too fast, and winked at the choir girls in church.

The sheriff knew them by name, but called them something else entirely. "Hold still, you damn redneck son of a bitch."

"Now, Sheriff Mills, don't you be talking about my mama like that," Dean said with a flashing white grin while she cuffed him.

"Your mama ever saw you acting like this, she'd kick your ass through to Tuesday, and you know it."

"Come on, Jody," Sam whined in his honey-sweet drawl, which seemed to get thicker whenever he was in trouble. Dean laughed at him. The younger man was already draped over the squad car with his hands cuffed behind his back, legs spread, as if Jody didn't know they kept their guns in their holsters, safetied, whenever they weren't shooting at bottles or stop signs. "You know we ain't doing nothing. What are you gonna take us in for, huh? I ain't even had time to get drunk in public yet!"

Dean cackled, and the breath was knocked right out of him when Jody kicked his legs apart and slammed him against the hood next to his brother. "Good Sheriff just likes seeing us like this, Sammy. Can't blame her. I do have a great ass." His head smacked against the car for his trouble.

"Damn lucky I caught you tonight. One day, the state boys are going to catch you before I do, and we're all going to have ourselves more than just a long weekend in a drunk tank."

"I ain't drunk yet!" Sam's muffled voice complained again.

Dean smirked. "I'm a little drunk," he admitted.

"You're always a little drunk. That don't count. All right, Jody. You going to screw up my weekend, you can at least read me my damn rights."

"He likes to hear them," Dean supplied.

"I like to hear them."

"Screw up your weekend? Oh, I'm sorry, you overgrown little shit. My weekend was going just fine till I got the call that the Winchester boys were brawling outside Ellen Harvelle's place. If I'd known it was just you knuckleheads trading punches between the two of you, I'd have stayed home and let you kill one another, and saved us all a heap of paperwork."

"I'll be more specific next time," a sour voice promised.

Dean twisted as much as he could without moving his feet from where they were planted on the loose gravel parking lot. "Hey, Ellen! Can you tell Jo I'm gonna be a little late?"

"Tell me yourself, asshole."

"Jo?" Sam called. "Dean's gonna be a little late! But can I get a beer?"

Dean snorted.

It wasn't every Friday night that Dean ended up with his chest against the hood of the sheriff's ride. But it wasn't so unusual that anyone involved was any more than irritated about the whole thing. Ellen wanted some peace for her patrons. Jo was annoyed that she was not dancing to the jukebox while Dean's thumbs were hooked in the belt loops of her painted-on denim. Jody would rather be beating Bobby Singer at a poker game. And Sam wanted a damn beer. But no one was actually all that pissed off. It was a Friday night in a one-horse town, and it wasn't like it was festival season. In a place like this, a guy had to make his own fun if he wanted to have any. And Dean wasn't in the habit of denying himself some fun. He had felt like fighting, and Sam was the only challenge around, so here they were.

There was a rumble behind them, and he and Sam both looked over their shoulders as the bikes pulled in and quieted.

Ash's voice rang out in a woot. "Sam! Dean! You start the fun without us? Hey there, Sheriff!"

Jody raised a hand without looking. "Stay out of trouble tonight," she warned. "I don't feel like cleaning your stupid, drunk ass up off a dirt floor."

"See, Sheriff? This is why you keep getting elected," Dean called. "Your people skills."

She cuffed him in the back of the head. "I keep getting elected because I'm the only one dumb enough to keep taking the job. Anybody ever ran against me, I'd vote for him!"

Sam cleared his throat. "Come on, Jody. It ain't like we were actually bothering anybody. Here. Let me buy you a drink from Ellen's good stuff for your trouble. Dean, you got money, right?"

Dean closed one eye as he thought about that. "Yeah. I think so. If not, I'll win a few rounds of pool, or you could get somebody playing some darts."

"Oh, lovely," Jody spat. "Bribing an officer with gambling winnings."

"Best I can do, Sheriff. August ain't exactly a flush month for a couple of farm hands." Dean glanced at Sam. "Still August, ain't it?"

"I think so."

"Corn's one thing, but you can't live on harvesting beans for a whole month."

"Just ain't enough beans in this area," Sam agreed. "And too many boys needing work, some with families, not to mention the farmers who do all the work themselves, and the drought's been fierce-"

Jody gave an enormous groan and grabbed Dean's arms. He felt the cuffs coming off. He grinned. "Would you two just shut up? I'm letting it go with a warning."

"A warning and bruised up wrists," Sam corrected as she unlocked his as well.

"I'm like to change my mind, smartass."

Dean pushed up off the vehicle and nodded at her. "Obliged, Sheriff. This make you off duty? Coming in for a drink?"

"Stay out of trouble, boys. Ellen, they give you any hard time, you shoot them."

Ellen nodded. "Yes, ma'am."

Jo and Ash smirked.

Dean looked down at the car again. “Jody, I heard you pulling in, before Sam landed a hook, and it didn't sound so good. Want me to pop the hood?”

She rolled her eyes. “Dean, I nearly arrested your ass tonight.”

He shrugged. “Don't mean I want you driving this unreliable piece of crap down any of them dirt county roads, getting yourself stuck or worse. Just gimme a minute, and I'll look to it. Ya’ll go on in.” He tossed his wallet at Sam. “Sammy, if there's anything in there, buy the sheriff a beer, will you? Or a tea if she's too stubborn to take a real drink. She's been damn reasonable tonight. Now don't look like that, Ellen, you know we’ll fix whatever mess we made. We were just messing around in the parking lot anyhow.”

Ellen threw her hands in the air and led them in.

Dean helped himself to the car’s innards, and poked and prodded at it until he was satisfied the thing wouldn't leave Jody stranded in the middle of nowhere. By then, Jo had returned to watch him. She sat on the hood of the car beside Jody's and sipped at her beer quietly until he glanced at her.

“You think there's anything else out there?”

He smiled to himself as he finished checking the oil levels, and wiped grease on his jeans. “Like what?” he asked indulgently.

Jo shrugged and drained the last of her bottle. “You know. This all there is? Just working and drinking and dancing, and do it all again tomorrow? I ain't complaining. I'm just saying. Think there's more?”

Green eyes gazed in adoration at her for a moment, then Dean sighed. “I hope not. I got everything I want right here. My dad is a war hero. My brother is Sam freaking Winchester. My car is badass, and my bike is awesome. And I'm sleeping with the most beautiful girl in town, who dances like nothing you ever seen. Why would I want there to be more?”

She smiled and reached her hands out to let him slide her off the hood into his arms. “Good answer.”

“Am I good to you?” It was a question he asked now and then, sometimes said in worry, sometimes in jest. Right now, he was looking in her eyes with intensity. Because some days, he just wasn't sure. Jo deserved so much better than a man like him. If ever her answer were negative, Dean had promised himself he would stumble back and get out of her way. There was a hidden question beneath the one he said aloud, and he already knew that answer, and he didn't like it. His eyes pleaded with her to disagree with what his heart always whispered in response to the silent question. “Am I good enough for you?”

Jo reached up and kissed his lips. “You're real good to me, Winchester. Stop pissing off my mama.”

Dean smiled sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I'll make it up to her. We really didn't break nothing.”

“Come dance with me.”

They sauntered toward the bar’s entrance. Her choice made him roll his eyes at the jukebox. “REO Speedwagon?”

“Damn right, REO.”

Dean smiled as her hips began to move. He was never going to get this song out of his head, but he didn't mind so much when he had such a nice image to go with it.

***

Sam was brooding over a beer when Ellen finally set Ash on him. He thudded down onto the stool next to him. “Sam, what's pissed in your bottle?”

Dark hazel-green eyes turned to glower at him. “Shut up.”

“Dude, why you even here if you're not going to have some fun?”

He shrugged moodily. “Had my fun. Dean’s got a shiner, don't he? Now I just want to drink in peace and be glad Jody didn't throw my ass in a cell like she should've.”

Ash snickered. “She ain't going through that much hassle for you two beating on each other. She'll save it for when you two team up to take out somebody else.”

Sam looked across the room at his brother laughing and kissing his girlfriend. He sighed. “Yeah,” he muttered. “We're a team, all right. Him and me against the world.”

“You got a brother would die for you,” Ash said then. “Don't get all bitchy ‘cause he's got something you don't. Want it for yourself. Don't resent him having it.”

A slow smile came over Sam's face. “You're the wise man folks climb mountains for, you know that?”

Ash snorted. “‘Course I know. I'm fuckin’ brilliant.”

Finally, Sam laughed.

His buddy slapped him on the arm and stood. “You riding tonight?”

Sam shook his head. “Planning on getting drunk enough to pass out here and make Ellen haul me out from under the bar.”

Ash nodded. “Pool tables are more comfortable,” he suggested, then moved on to talk to Benny at the bar.

There came another voice that made Sam immediately cough on his beer. “Samuel.”

“Pastor!” he wheezed. He could feel guilt creeping onto his face in hot red. “Don't often see you here.”

“I think that about you and your daddy most Sundays, Sam.”

He smiled sheepishly, and pushed his bottle a little further down the bar. “Yes, sir.”

Pastor Shurley sat beside him. He seemed both dwarfed beside Sam and yet as large a presence as Sam ever encountered. If he didn't know the Pastor, he might have thought of him as a weak man, considering how nervous and cringing he seemed in public. But Sam knew him. And worse, he knew Sam.

“Can I, uh...buy you a drink, sir?”

“Thank you, Sam, no.”

That was a relief. He wasn't even sure he could pay Ellen for his own beer tonight. Most of his paycheck went to her after paying John’s bills anyway, so she never minded him racking up a tab. But he didn't like doing it.

“Sam, you know, I never thanked you for coming and fixing that leak for me.”

He smiled shakily. “Yes, sir,” he murmured. “Just a bit of mending. Weren't no problem. Mighta took me an hour, tops.”

“Still, I appreciated it. You also did some work on that fencing out back, didn't you?”

Sam snorted. “Didn't think you wanted Henriksen's horses wandering in to hear your sermon, Pastor.”

“I thought that might've been you. Nice work.”

He nodded, and took a tiny sip of his beer. “No big deal, Pastor. Dean and me, we ain't getting a lot of work this month. Gotta keep my hands busy with something, right? Idle hands and all that?”

“I've heard something said about that, yes.” The pastor smirked at him. “And the ladies doing the quilting said they saw you out there hammering loose nails on our storage shed.”

“Needed it. Who else got time but me?”

“Sam, you're allowed to come inside the church, you know.”

He didn't mean to say it. It fell out of his mouth. “Something in there need fixing?”

Pastor Shurley’s smile was sympathetic, and Sam hated it. “No. But maybe something in there does.” He gestured generally toward Sam's heart.

Sam licked his lips and shook his head. He took a long pull on his beer bottle, and stood. “No, sir. But I'll keep it in mind. Have a good night, Pastor.”

As he turned to walk away, the man called to him. “I pray for you, Sam.”

His temper was flashing in his eyes when he turned back. “Don't. Plenty of others need it more than me. I can take care of myself. You want to pray on a Winchester, make it my mom.”

That damn look of sympathy was eating away at Sam. “Your mama is safe in God's hands, Sam. It's the rest of you I worry about.”

His eyes narrowed. “My dad’s a good man. Maybe he don't make it to every service, but he's a good man. And there ain't no better man out there than my brother Dean. So save yourself some time in your prayer schedule, and take the Winchester family off your list.”

“John is a good man. Haunted by more than just your mama’s memory. He could use some peace, and he might find it with us on an occasional Sunday. Like your brother does.”

Sam snorted again. “You think Dean's there because he's such a choir boy? He goes every Sunday because Ellen makes him go. Only way he can do what he's doing over there now.”

The pastor shrugged. “I don't much care what brings a boy in, Sam. I care more about what keeps a boy out.”

He shook his head. “G’night, Pastor.”

Sam had ridden his motorcycle there to meet Dean. He threw a leg over it now, and kicked it into a roar. He was fumbling his helmet when he heard his name.

He was getting damn tired of everyone calling his name. “What?” he shouted over the noise.

Dean couldn't hear the frustration, maybe, but he could see it. He made a motion at his throat to tell Sam to kill the motor.

Sam scowled, but he did as he was told. “What?” he demanded again.

“What's going on? Thought we were-”

“I'm tired and broke. I'm going home.”

The green eyes were worried. “Dude, you ain't pissed about the thing earlier, are you? We were just screwing around, right?”

He let his shoulders drop a little, and he huffed a laugh. “Yeah, man. Swelling up your pretty face was the highlight of my week.”

Dean's relief was written into his grin. “Hit me kinda hard there, kiddo.”

“Maybe you're getting soft.” He snorted. “And slow. Was a time I couldn't land a solid hook like that, not on you.”

There was pride in Dean's eyes now, and a part of Sam that would never see Dean as anything but a hero thrilled with it. “Yeah. I ain't getting slow. At some point, you got fuckin’ fast.”

“Maybe,” he smirked. “Listen, I just ain't good company tonight. Ask anybody. I'm going to see if Dad needs anything. Then I might ride a while.”

The older man shrugged. “Okay. Whatever. Just be careful. How many you have?”

“One. I'm fine. Ain't nobody else on this road anyhow.”

“Watch for deer.”

He rolled his eyes. “Dude.”

“Okay. Sorry. I know you know. You just-”

“Still look thirteen freaking years old to you?”

Dean smiled. “Yeah. Especially when you sulk.”

Sam glowered at him. “You done?”

“Call me if Dad needs anything. Imma stay with Jo tonight, help Ellen ‘round the place tomorrow.” He eyed his little brother thoughtfully. “You're okay, ain't you, Sammy?”

He sighed and forced a smile. “Yeah. Just wishing Bobby would call saying he needs us at the shop or something, or Caleb would tell us he got work for us at somebody's farm. Hell, I'll get my CDL if it means we got steady work.”

“Dad would hate that.”

“He's also gonna hate getting kicked off the Campbell land because we can't pay Christian what we owe him.”

Dean's eyes flashed with anger, and he looked around them quickly. “Lower your voice, Sammy!” he snapped. “Ain't nobody gotta know about that but us. It's family business.”

“Shit, Dean, you know nothing stays quiet ‘round here! Mark Campbell gets lit some night, it'll be all over town.”

“And you and me will kick his ass. I'm talking about you. Shut up about it. I told you I'll figure something out before Christian can file something with Jody.”

Sam glared at his own boots. “Just wish Christian coulda gave us some real warning, you know? That Dad was so far behind.” He shrugged. “Whatever. I can't sit here and drink away what we don't got. If we don't get a call from Bobby or Caleb this week, I'm going to start hitting farms one by one till somebody gives me a day's work. If I can't find it...I'm leaving. This town, Dean, it just ain't big enough. Too many boys looking for work. People leaving every day. Town’s dying, man. I'm not going to sit and watch it bury Dad too. I gotta go where there's work, and that ain't here. Dad loses that land, he's got nothing.”

“He's not gonna lose the land, and you don't gotta leave. I said I'd figure it out, and I will. Go ride if you want. I'm going back to dance with my girl. Everything will be all right, Sammy. I promise. I said I'd take care of it. You gotta trust me.”

The pain in his brother's eyes made him look older than he was. It was aging them both, worrying night and day. “I snapped at Pastor Shurley. Apologize for me, will you?”

The change in conversation startled Dean. “Pastor Chuck's in there? Wait, what'd you say to him?”

“It don't matter. Just tell him I'm an idiot.”

“You are an idiot. You're the smartest, biggest idiot I ever knew.”

Sam glared, but there was no real heat to it this time. “Learned everything I know from you, asshat.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

Dean hid his smile unsuccessfully. “I'll see you sometime tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” He kicked his bike again, and a moment later, Dean and the Roadhouse were behind him. It was a clear, moonless night, and he wasn't going to waste any more of it worrying about things he couldn't do anything about. The wind in his hair and the thrill of the speed were enough for tonight. He was lonely. He was sick at heart about his father's land. But he was riding country roads on his bike, and that made it all just a little easier to take.

***

The boy walked along the road, trying to ignore the fact that he was completely terrified. These roads never seemed to end, but they also never seemed to get him anywhere. Where he was from, roads took you someplace. Here, they just seemed to go on forever, and get darker and dustier every mile. Adam had been walking for two days now.

The bus had gone as far as Lawrence. He had thought that might be close enough. But he had gotten himself terribly lost on these old roads that twisted and turned and changed from pavement to gravel to dirt and then dropped him onto a new road without warning.

When he had dropped him off, the bus driver had told him to watch out for cottonmouths and copperheads. He didn't know what that meant until he asked a guy at the gas station when he went in to grab some snacks. When he had found out they were types of poisonous snakes, Adam had not felt any better. But this was the way to John Winchester’s house, so he continued to put one foot after the other. This was the way to his father.


	2. Do You Know How Full of Crap You Are?

Sam heard the shotgun before he saw his father's dark silhouette at the porch. His breath caught in his throat, and he jumped from his bike. His long legs carried him across the field to jump up the porch, his own gun drawn just in case.

But he didn't need it.

"Dad? Dad, stop, okay? Put it down!"

"Don't you think I won't shoot you, boy!"

Sam would never make that mistake. "Dad, it's me. It's Sam, okay? You see me? Sam. Nobody else here."

"Sammy? They're trying to break in. I heard 'em. Where's your brother?"

He took hold of the shotgun and gracefully disarmed his father. "He's with Jo and Ellen, Dad. Come on."

"He should be here!" he snapped.

Sam set his jaw. "No, sir. He don't gotta always be here. He's nearing twenty-six years old, and you were in a war by that age. So don't say he shouldn't be-"

John shoved him away and moved toward the door to the house. "Twenty-six!" he growled. "That's ridiculous. Sam just turned twelve in the spring! You ain't more than sixteen! Get to be my age, and see if you'll want to add ten years on!"

Sam sighed and followed his father. "I'm Sam, Dad. And I'm twenty-two. Dean's gonna be twenty-six in January."

"That's ridiculous," he said again, but he sounded less sure of himself this time. "It don't matter. I was telling you, I heard them again. Trying to break in. Steal Mary's jewelry. Steal my guns. It's them Miller boys. I'm telling you."

Sam flinched. He guided his father to his chair in the living room. "Dad, Max Miller ain't breaking into nobody's house. He ate his own bullet six, seven months back."

"Not Max! The boys! Jim and Roger! They're a bunch of redneck-"

"No, Dad. Stop. Okay? Jim was Max's dad. He and his brother Roger went to prison for what they done to Max, remember? Alice told the sheriff after Max done himself. Jim and Roger ain't boys; they're monsters. I went to school with Max, remember? Weird kid, always bruised up. Everybody knew it was his daddy done it, but he never would say nothing."

John nodded slowly, and Sam saw his wild eyes beginning to sharpen. "That's right. Max Miller. Sorry kid, wasn't he? But smart, I think."

"Real smart. Scary smart. But never took the honors classes because he could never keep up, missed too much school, couldn't get his work done at home. Could've even gone to college. But couldn't keep up. He had no way out of this town."

John's head was clearing. He watched Sam. "Like you?" he said softly. "Smart enough but stuck here where you don't belong?"

The words rattled his nerves. He stared at his father, and dropped down to the couch across from him. "I-I don't..."

The man smiled sadly. "Was a time that'd be an insult to me, Sammy. You thinking you're better than this town. But I know now. I understand."

"Dad-"

"It's true. You are better than this town, and everyone in it, including me."

He shook his head. "No, sir," he said firmly. "I may leave one day, but it ain't never going to be because I think I'm too good for it. I got things I gotta do. But this is where I want to be. Whether I belong or not." That last part hurt something in his chest, but he took a deep breath and fought to ignore it, as he always did. First rule of being a Winchester, shove it all down and let it out in bursts of violence and alcoholism.

He had certainly managed the latter.

Almost as if he could hear his thoughts, John spoke again. "You still running with that Ruby girl?"

He swallowed hard. He stood on tired feet and began idly picking up the place, straightening this and that, the way Dean always did when he needed a reason not to look somebody in the eye. "No, sir. Ruby moved on."

"Dean and I didn't like her."

Sam's eyes narrowed in annoyance, even as shame filled his stomach. "Yes, sir. You made that plenty clear."

"Wearing them gothic clothes and doing her hair a different color every week..."

Sam wanted to laugh. He wanted to shake his father. He wanted to scream that if that was the worst he knew about Ruby, it was laughable. Ruby was poison, he wanted to shout. Ruby was poison, and he was never coming clean from what she did to him.

And he hadn't even loved her. Wasn't that the worst of it? Wasn't that the irony? He had been fascinated; he had been obsessed. But he had never been in love. Ruby had come into his life like a wildfire, and left him in smoldering ashes. And it didn't matter how many gallons he had poured down his throat since then. It still burned inside.

John shook his head. "You gotta find a good country girl, Sam. A hard worker."

He smiled bitterly. "Yeah. Dad, look. We talked about this before, right? You gotta keep your guns in the safe when Dean and I ain't home. You get that you could've shot me coming home tonight? Or worse, Dean or Bobby come to check on you? And much as I don't mind you taking a chunk outta Christian, Johnny or Mark's ass, they aren't technically trespassing if they decide to walk up here some night. And you take aim at Gwen, Dean won't never forgive that. Campbell or not, she's one of the good ones. Like you said Mom was. You get confused one night and aim that double barrel at her, Dean's like to knock your teeth out."

John was glowering at him, but Sam recognized a man trying to hold onto his pride and temper at the same time. He had enough trouble with that juggling act himself most days. "I thought I heard someone breaking in. Ain't got nothing to do with...Man's got a right to defend his home."

Sam sighed. "Yeah. Okay. Well, try to defend it without shooting nobody." He headed into the kitchen and looked through the myriad cans of soups in the cabinet. "What did you eat tonight?" he called.

"I ain't hungry."

"You're starting to sound like Bobby Singer, Dad, now come on. You eat anything?"

"I said-"

"Yeah, you ain't hungry. I heard you. You know," he added as he emptied the contents of a soup can into a bowl to heat, "you used to tell me and Dean to never turn down a good meal. Never know when you won't get your next one, you said. And here you are, won't open a damn can without me, or cook up nothing without Dean. Used to say it was a soldier's responsibility to keep himself fit for duty. Remember that? Dad?"

John heaved a sigh that carried all the way from the other room. "I remember," he muttered. "I remember a day when you and your brother didn't have the nerve to scold me too. Another memory that don't matter no more."

Sam took the heated bowl and a beer from the refrigerator, and returned to the living room to hand them to John. "Dad, Pastor Shurley asked about you. Wants to know when he'll see you."

John scowled at the soup. He put it down on the old coffee table, and grabbed the beer instead. "Ask him when Judgement Day is."

Something about that made Sam smirk. But he didn't let his father see. "I think it'd be a good idea for you to go down to the church now and then. Once a month or more. Be good for me and Dean, you know? We need work, Dad, and you can charm those farmers' wives like nobody I ever saw. It'd be good of you to go and talk to people, remind them we're a good family. Guys that got kids get hired first, and that's fine, supposed to be, but it'd be good if they remembered me and Dean too when harvests come and go. I'll work anywhere, Dad, but there ain't nobody hiring, not store owners, not construction bosses, not mechanics...It'd be good of you to go into town on Sundays. Remind folks we're honest."

"Boys still angry about the military."

Sam shook his head wearily. "No. Dad, we ain't...Look, we're not angry. We're grown; we could go put on a uniform if we wanted to. But you didn't want us to do that, like you did. So we respected that. Lord knows you know more about it all than we do. It's just...we gotta find work to keep the land, Dad. You...you understand that, right? That we're damn close to losing this place to Christian?"

John's eyes flashed angrily. "That lazy son of a bitch-"

"He sees more work than I do, Dad, so be careful calling him lazy."

At last, the man turned to look at his younger son. "It doesn't matter how many hours a man works so much as it does how hard he works. And there ain't no harder workers out there than my boys."

All the shame Sam built up every day, from the moment he opened his eyes in the morning to the moment his drink gave him the tainted relief of sleep at night, evaporated in an instant with one statement like that from his father. No matter how much he and his father lunged at one another's throats these days, it meant the world to Sam to hear John was proud of him. It was the fuel that would give him reason to push himself out of bed another day.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly.

They were silent for a long time, until John finally surrendered and reached for his soup again. "So? I assume your brother's got a plan."

Sam snorted. "Yeah. And so long as he don't knock over a bank or some such, I'm behind it, whatever it is."

John was smirking to himself. "Sammy, you'd be behind that too if it's your brother."

He smiled at him. "I expect I would be. But I'll try to talk him out of any felonizing he's got planned." They shared a tired laugh, and then Sam cleared his throat. "Think maybe I'll look into getting my CDL."

He didn't even have to see John's face to know what his frown looked like. "That's not necessary."

He swallowed hard, and took a breath. "Dad, you can't pick every job you ever hated for yourself and take it off the table for Dean and me. It don't leave us nothing left."

"Son, I told you not to go serve. I'm just asking you not to truck. Not you."

He had turned away, but now he looked back. "What? It's okay for Dean?"

"If he gotta. I don't like it, but he'll do what he's gotta do. But, Sammy, I'm asking _you_. Don't. It's lonely and...and..."

Sam shrugged in frustration. "And it pays the bills, Dad!"

A strong, stubborn glare turned on him. John Winchester could stare a man down like nobody Sam had ever known. "I'll hand the deed to Christian Campbell before I see you doing long hauls."

"Dad, there's no money in anything but the long hauls; you know that! And the money's good! You'd still be doing it yourself if you could!"

But he shook his head. "I'm done talking about it. You going out tonight?"

The earlier relief had soured. Sam stood and grabbed his leather. "Yeah, damn right I'm going out."

"Sam!"

The door slammed behind him. One of the dogs broke rank to try to get his attention, but he wasn't in the mood. He threw his leg astride his bike. It was the only thing in the world he owned, his red Harley-Davidson Breakout cruiser, his pride and joy, won in a shooting tournament, the year after Dean had won his black one. The Winchester family had been banned from future events since they inevitably took first and second place prizes at every competition, but they didn't care. They had their bikes, won fair and square, and everyone knew who the best shots in the county were. Give a Winchester boy a gun or a bow, and they could hit anything you could see and plenty of things you couldn't. They could change the rules so John's boys were ineligible to compete since they were former champions. But every time they rode into town, the roar of the engines and their cocky grins reminded everyone.

The roar was all that kept Sam's restless temper from erupting into flames. When he felt his veins burning, his only option for not giving in was to ride. There were nights that he rode till dawn, like the monster inside him would catch him if he slowed down longer than it took to fuel up.

It hadn't started with Ruby. It had lived in his blood for as long as he could remember. But it had gotten so much worse with her. Restlessness had transformed into anxiety. What had been loneliness had become desperation. What was once a short fuse had become explosive wrath. The self-doubt he had harbored had mutated into an ugly self-loathing. And now hating himself was the legacy of his time spent running with a woman he hadn't even loved.

***

Jo tumbled off him with a giggle.

He gazed up at her contentedly. "What?" he sighed. "Why're you laughing at me?"

She squirmed under the blankets, as he moved to take care of the condom before joining her. "You don't get it. You're so sexy during, but, baby, you're just the cutest thing after you get off."

Dean's smile wouldn't fade. She could say what she wanted, but the most gorgeous image in the world was right before him now. He could have stayed frozen in this moment forever, just looking at that woman, that hard, strong softness.

"The way you look at me like..."

"Like I adore you?"

She giggled. "Yeah. Like that. Like there ain't nothing in the world you love more."

"Am I good to you, Jo?"

The woman propped herself up on one elbow to stare down at him. "Third time tonight, Winchester. You're real good to me. What's in that tangled up mind of yours?"

Green eyes lowered at last. He would talk all night about how beautiful she was, how she felt so completely right. But tangled didn't even begin to describe the state of his head, and he didn't want to talk about that. "Nothing, Jo. Leave it be. I just want to check you don't need nothing I ain't giving you." There were so many things he wasn't giving her. So many things she deserved to have. But he was giving her what he had to give, as much as he could offer, and he had to keep asking if it was enough. Maybe this was the third time he had asked tonight. But that was just how badly he needed to be sure.

There came a sharp knock on the door, and Jo looked up. "What?" she demanded.

It was Ash's voice calling to them. "Tell Dean to put some pants on. There's a kid out here, says he's looking for John Winchester!"

A sharp alertness came over Dean, and he leapt from the bed. "A kid? What kind of kid?" he shouted.

"The kid kind, man! I don't know! Like high school. You remember high school, don't you? You went for three whole years!"

Jo snickered.

He tossed her a glare, and finished throwing his tee over his head. His fingers brushed the holster on his jeans, then he opened the door and stepped out into the sawdust floored hall.

The music got louder as he passed through another set of swinging doors, and the smell of beer and sweat and smoke, the scent of home, hit him. He looked out over the small crowd until he saw a face that didn't belong. He frowned, and approached the boy standing at the exit.

"You looking for John Winchester?" he growled.

Ellen looked up. "Hey, Dean. Kid says he knows John."

He watched the boy lower his eyes, and he knew the truth of it right away. "No he don't."

"Didn't say I knew him. I said I'm looking for him."

Dean snorted. "Yeah. You two are old war buddies, huh?"

Ellen laughed, but the boy's face twisted in confusion. "No," he said, as if he thought Dean might be stupid. "I'm only fourteen."

Dean exchanged looks with Ellen before she turned to walk away with a shake of her head. "Yeah, I can see that. Who are you, and what do you want with John Winchester?"

The boy tried to stand taller. "That's none of your business."

"Well, it ain't and it is," Dean corrected. "Because I know where he is and you don't. So that's your choice whose business you make it, ain't it?"

The boy sighed in defeat, and took a step back, but startled when he bumped into the wall behind him. His face reddened immediately. "I don't...I just need to see him. He...My name is Adam."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on outside, where I can hear you, and where you ain't getting a buzz just standing in the smoke. I'm guessing this is your first roadhouse. Congratulations." He took hold of the kid's arm and pulled him out the door with him.

"Hey!"

Once they were in the fresh air, and out of the bad lighting, Dean took a look at him. "You ain't from here, Adam."

Fierce eyes glared at him. "Obviously!" he snapped. "And I've come a long way to see John Winchester, so are you going to tell me where he is or not? This was the only building on this road, and I've been walking a long time, but I'm sure there are other places if I keep going."

Dean looked at the way the boy was pointing, and he smiled a little. "Yeah. There are places. If what you're trying to find is snakes and maybe a bobcat or coyotes, you're heading the right way." He laughed at the way the boy's face fell. "Look, kid."

"Adam."

"Right. Adam. Where are your parents?"

Adam took on a defensive stance, as if he were prepared to fight Dean if necessary. "That's none of your-"

"Kid?" Dean said, in not an unkind tone. "You want to talk to John bad enough to walk the length of a road where only the copperheads, cottonmouths and rattlers go, and only if they gotta. I'm going to help you find him without getting snake-bit, but I want my questions answered first. Where's your family?"

Adam scowled at him. "My mom is Kate Milligan. She's back where I left her. Windom, Minnesota. And my father is here. Or that's what I thought."

Dean's face and heart lost all mirth. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Adam turned his glare up to meet the man's gaze, in a nearly believable imitation of fearlessness. "John Winchester. He's my dad."

That was the moment everything Dean had ever known for sure turned and laughed at him, and his heart shattered in his chest.


	3. I Would Have Taken Anything

Sam's head lolled on his neck languidly. The whole universe was up there dancing for him. Ruby was rolling her hips over him, and he could feel the sensations, but from a giddy, dissociative point of view. He hadn't intended to have sex with her again. In fact, he was supposed to be leaving her tonight, for good. But there he was, flat on his back, staring up at the stars, wondering if he could reach out and grab hold of them, while she did as she liked from atop him.

Ruby had been a wildfire. He hadn't stood a chance. After seventeen years of loneliness and boredom, she had been the opposite of everything he had ever known. While the girls in town wore pastel sundresses to church, Ruby and her sisters smoked in darkness outside the gas station.

The colors swam in Sam's head, not soft ones like he was used to, but powerful, each distinct in his mind. Lilith, the oldest girl, was always in flawless white in Sam's memory, those perfect white teeth grinning in a disturbing mixture of innocence and malice. Ruby’s twin sister, Meg, had chopped black hair and blond highlights, with smirking, manicured eyebrows, black lipstick, black claws. Ruby herself was fire red. Not the dark blood red of her Aunt Abby, but the flame-orange red that burned in his veins years later. The girls were all gorgeous, all manipulative bitches. Beautiful monsters. Sam had been unable to resist.

Lilith had tried to get her teeth into Dean for a time, but had moved on to cousin Christian when Dean remained cold and Jo was dangerously territorial. It hadn't been a surprise, in hindsight, that Lilith, upon marrying Christian about two years after the family had moved to town, had been the one to discover an old contract between Samuel Campbell and John Winchester that included fine print John had completely overlooked, the one which deeded the farmhouse and land to Christian if Mary died before her boys were old enough to claim the land themselves. No matter how long John had lived there, it wasn't his land. It belonged to the Campbell family. Christian and Lilith had given John and his boys a year to pay for the property before the contract came due. Dean and Jody Mills had talked him into giving them three years. The lawyer who had looked the whole thing over had been a friend of Sam's back in high school, a young man named Brady, who assured Sam that the contract would not hold up in court since so much time had passed. But his tune changed the moment Ruby had winked at him, and Sam hadn't seen his old friend since. Sam didn't know if Ruby were just punishing him and his family, or if she were just looking out for Lilith’s best interests. All he knew was that Brady betrayed him, and his father couldn't afford any other counsel.

But Sam had known none of this back then. Back then, he had been blissful in his Hell. He gave Ruby whatever she wanted, and she told him what he needed, and sometimes let him work to receive it. She burned him down, then got him high, and fucked him when he finally didn't care anymore.

Meg had been lying sprawled out on an old tire swing one night when Sam went to meet Ruby in the woods behind the school. She was drinking whiskey from the bottle, and letting the tire spin around slowly to add to the dizzying effects of the alcohol. “Heya, Sam,” she slurred without looking. “She ain't here.”

“What?”

“My sluttier half. She ain't here.”

He watched her. “Don't call her that. Where is she?”

“Out fucking your cousin Mark. See why I call her that?” She propped herself up on an elbow to look at him, and took another drink. “You Campbell boys...My sisters can't get enough of the Campbell boys. There's something sexy in that water, ain't there?”

Sam's eyes flashed in barely controlled fury. “She's with Mark?”

“Yeah. Or Johnny. Can't keep up. Johnny was last week. Or Mark was. She's with the other one. Whichever one wasn't last week. Which one's the one that don't talk unless he's trashed?”

His lips curled into a snarl. “Mark,” he spat.

She lifted a finger from around the neck of her bottle. “That one.” Meg shook her head at him. “I don't get it. You know!”

His eyes narrowed. “What?”

Meg coughed a bit into her whiskey, then ran a sleeve across her mouth. “You know she fucks every guy in town.”

“I didn't know my cousins were on that list,” he snapped.

She shrugged dismissively. “Small town. She ran out of boys ain't your cousins. Besides, like I said, she and Lil got a type, and it's you Campbells.”

“I'm a Winchester.”

There came another shrug. “Whatever. You're gay is what you are.”

Sam stared at her in alarm, his face blanching. “The hell are you talking-”

“You know just what the hell I'm talking about. And that's what I don't get! You don't want to fuck my sister. But you do it anyhow. What the hell is that?”

His heart was pounding in his chest, so loudly he thought she could hear. “That's...Why would you even say that? That's bullshit! I been with plenty of girls!”

She began to laugh. “So have I. Don't mean nothing. At least I had fun while I did it. You, it's all you can do to not throw up when Ruby gets her hand working up your leg. You'll only screw her when you're high. But I see the way you duck your head down when other guys are near, like you're scolding yourself for wanting to look. You give them the same look other guys give my sisters and me when they're trying to pretend we're not exactly what they want, just because they can't have us.” She snorted and cackled then. “Well, they can have Ruby. Never met a good looking guy couldn't have Ruby. Point is, you won't look at what you think you shouldn't want. Don't matter how many girls you fuck if you gotta be high or lit to do it, and want to puke after.”

He took several steps back. “You're crazy.”

“Or maybe you're a redneck who likes boys, and you know those ain't supposed to go together, so you're letting folks see you running with a girl, and let them think the most scandalous thing about you is that your girl wears goth corsets. You'd rather they saw you high enough to stomach fucking a _girl_ than know you'd rather be with some farmboy that might not treat you like trash.”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” he barked at her. “You don't know nothing about me!”

 She shrugged. “No. I know plenty about you. I don't _care_ nothing about you. But then, that makes two of us, don't it?”

He had torn down the road on his bike, and hadn't stopped till he found himself at the county line. Tears cut tracks down his dusty cheeks as he stared out at the exit that would take him to the interstate, the one that would take him to freedom. He could go, disappear someplace he wouldn't be able to shame his family, someplace he could hate himself while giving in to what he wanted, instead of hate himself while giving in to what made him sick. He would never take that exit. Sam knew his father needed him. His brother too. But that didn't keep him from staring in desperation at the road that could take him away forever.

So two hours later, he found himself beneath the witch again, riding her high while she rode him, trying to pretend he didn't know Mark Campbell had been in the same position that same night, and watched the stars dance just out of his reach.

***

Adam looked up at Dean. “Well?”

“Well what?” Dean barked. “You're playing a dangerous game, kid. What do you want?”

He watched the man struggle to hold back volatile emotions. He frowned. “What's John Winchester to you? Why do you care?”

Green eyes flashed in anger. “Never you mind. Why don't you tell me why you think he's your father?”

Adam sighed. “I know he is. I saw him a few times as a kid. That was a long time ago. But I remember. And I got a picture.” He pulled open his wallet to retrieve the photo he had taken from his mother's desk before leaving. He looked at the man suspiciously for a moment. He had never shown the face of his father to anyone before, and he didn't like this man very much. But if he really did know his father, if they were friends or something, it occurred to him that he ought to be respectful. So he handed it over.

He watched as the man’s face turned gray before his eyes. He wondered if the guy was sick. “That's, uh...that's John Winchester. Where, um...where's this taken? When?”

“Twins, Pirates game. I was-It was my ninth birthday. Last time I saw him.”

“How old are you?” The voice was deep and husky now.

“Fourteen.”

Dean snorted softly, and stared down at the photo. “Twelve when you were born. Sam woulda been eight. He was doing long hauls. So this was when Sammy was seventeen.” He nodded to himself, and handed the photograph back. “Seventeen, running himself into the ground with that bitch, and Dad nowhere to be found. He took you to a freaking baseball game?”

Adam blinked at him. “Sure. What'd _your_ dad do on your ninth birthday?”

The man smirked in a huff, but it faded into a sad sigh. “ _My_ dad never had no money for baseball games. _My_ dad said things like that were for boys that didn't have enough work to keep them busy. _My_ dad said it's just as good on television as in a stadium, and people like us didn't waste money on things like that. We had responsibilities. Birthdays were for adding on new chores we was old enough to take on. But maybe I misunderstood, because _my_ dad’s name is John Winchester, and that's clearly John Winchester taking a nine year old kid to a damn baseball game.”

His breath caught in his throat, and he took a step back. “You're...Then you're…”

“I'm Dean Winchester. John's older boy. And I'll take you to him, but I got a phone call to make first.” The man called into the roadhouse loudly. “Ellen! Get the kid some water and something to eat, will you?” Then he turned back to Adam. “You want me to take you to the guy you think is your father, you don't talk about this to nobody else. You hear me?”

He nodded quickly. “Promise,” he breathed excitedly.

“That don't mean nothing in this family, kid,” Dean growled. Then he walked out into the dirt and gravel lot toward a gorgeous black classic muscle car, and Adam couldn't hear him talking into his phone.


	4. I'm On Lockdown, Aren't I?

The phones were a compromise. John had said they were a complete waste of money. Sam had argued that it was the only way they were connected to the rest of the world, to one another, and to job prospects. Dean had weighed the arguments, and had ruled in favor of two active cell phones and one pay-as-needed cell for John, which would work for emergencies, and canceled their landline. He had gotten the extra features for Sam's, to let him go online and read and “whatever your nerdy ass thinks it needs to do,” and kept his own basic. Dean paid for all three out of their common account. The condition was that Sam always picked up the phone for his brother's call, no matter what. The day Dean found out Sam had ignored a call would be the day Dean canceled Sam's phone, and the younger man would have to pay for his own. The threat had worked when Sam was seventeen, but he had often wondered since if it might be worth it.

He pulled under the bridge to answer it now, ripping his helmet off irritably. “What?”

“Get home.”

All annoyance drained from him at the order. “I-I was just there. He was fine! I mean, not fine, but...It wasn't two hours ago, he was eating and-”

“Sammy,” Dean said in a firm tone, “get home. Far as I know, Dad’s fine. But we got ourselves a situation, and I ain't...You heard me. Get home.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I'm out by the bridge. Shouldn't take me twenty-five minutes.”

“Watch for deer.” It was said in an automatic voice, the same way some families said they loved one another at the end of a call. In their family, Sam supposed it meant the same thing.

He climbed back on his bike, and sped as fast as he dared toward home, running Dean's frustratingly few words through his head. As far as Dean knew, John was fine. Not an accident of some kind. Not another stroke, thank god. And Dean would have just said so if John were lost in the past someplace, in Vietnam or in the burning house, or somewhere equally hellish, where John’s brain went sometimes. In those episodes, John was often nearly catatonic, and it was scarier than if he had been yelling and waving his gun. Sam could disarm the man, but he couldn't shove the war back down where it belonged.

So what else could have Dean so upset? He had nearly seemed...Frightened wasn't the right word, was it? Couldn't be. This was Dean.

Shaken. Dean had seemed shaken. Jo, then? Ash or Benny or one of the other boys they rode with? Ellen? But then he would be heading for the Roadhouse, wouldn't he? Maybe one of the dogs…

He raced up the porch steps for the second time that night. Dean opened the door before he could, and shoved him back onto the porch. He let the screen door slam behind him. Sam wondered if he had ever seen Dean's face so pale, except immediately after learning of John’s stroke.

“What's going on? Dean, what?”

“We just got here. I ain't even woke up Dad yet.”

Sam looked past him. “We who? Jo here?”

“No. Sam, it's…” Dean took a deep breath. “There's a kid, came into Harvelle's tonight, hadn't eaten right in a few days, been on his own…”

The younger man let his shoulders relax a little. “So we’re helping him. Giving him a place to stay the weekend. No problem. He can take my space; I'll sleep out here on the swing. Too hot for the couch-”

Dean put his hand up. “No, he's…” He laughed a little then. “Sam, you're a good kid, you know that? I'm glad your first thought is to give a stranger your bunk. Mom...Mom would like that about you.”

Sam frowned. “Then what…?”

His brother's hand was trembling when he ran it over his face, and that scared Sam down to his bones. “I hadn't even thought far enough to where he's sleeping.”

“Dean!” Sam hissed in exasperation.

“Yeah. Sorry. Okay, so he says...His name’s Adam. And he's-”

Sam's heart leapt into his throat. “Adam? The Adam? He's here?”

There was something dangerous and dark in Dean's eyes, betrayal written across his face as clearly as if he had screamed it. “What?” he said quietly. Then he lifted his hand again. “Sammy? You tell me you knew about this kid, and I'm sure as hell going to kick your ass, then I'm packing a bag. So be careful what you say next.”

He shook his head quickly. “No, I...I mean, no! I just...When we ain't together, Dad sometimes...He gets confused, you know he does, and he calls me by your name more than my own, and sometimes...More than once he called me Adam. And I got to thinking, maybe he’s got a cousin out there somewhere, because we don't know hardly nothing about Henry and he mighta had a sister, or maybe even-”

“A son.” Fury was barely contained in Dean's eyes now.

He frowned. “A son? So...Dad had a brother? An uncle?”

Dean took a deep breath. “No, Sam. Adam is Dad's son. He's fourteen. And he's right inside.”

The world got quiet then, too quiet, and it was as though all the air had been sucked from it. Sam shook his head, staring at Dean. “I don't...How can that…”

His brother gestured toward the door. “See for yourself.”

***

The man sat on the stool and heaved a sigh. “Not sure what kind of family it is if Adam thinks he's going to find them in a place like this,” he muttered to himself.

The woman cleaning the bar sauntered over to him. “I'm at last call, buddy.”

Any of the places he frequented back home would have been at last call three hours ago. “Yes, ma’am. My name is Cas Custos. I'm investigating a missing persons case, and there's reason to believe that the person I'm seeking may have been in this establishment tonight.”

She smirked at him. “The kid?”

He blinked. “I...have a photo…”

“Yeah. Honey, I know every face that comes through here. Only two I haven't known in months are you and a kid. So yeah. He's been here.”

Castiel sighed in relief. “That's great news. Can you tell me where I can find-”

“Nope.” She continued wiping the bar without even bothering to look.

He cleared his throat. “The child, Adam, he's just fourteen. I'd like to get him back to his parents before something happens to him.”

“Uh huh. Or you could be the thing he's running from. I'll let the sheriff take it from here.”

A desperation was building in his chest. “Ma’am, this is the closest I've been to catching up with him, and if I miss this chance-”

“If you miss this chance, it won't be because of me. Kid’s running awful hard, and seems to me he got someplace to go. So I expect when he gets there, he's like to stay a while. So you got time to sit back and have a chat with our local sheriff, you think?”

Before he could respond, another woman sat on the stool beside him, and placed her sidearm in front of her on the bar. Her hand did not leave it. “Howdy, stranger. I'm Sheriff Mills. I bet you've come a long way, and you got a hell of a story to tell. So why don't you go ahead and start telling it?”

The woman behind the bar winked at him, and nodded at the sheriff. “You holler if you need anything, Jody. Ya’ll excuse me while I clean around you.”

“Thanks, Ellen.” She gave a tight smile to Castiel, who suspected she wasn't actually smiling at all.

He sighed.


	5. You Pitched This Whole Dewy-Eyed Bromance Thing

Dean could still pretend it was all a mistake, or some elaborate, unforgivable prank by Ash or Garth or Benny or one of the other idiots they rode with, right up until he saw his father's eyes. Before anyone spoke, John looked at Adam, and sighed, and Dean knew.

“Adam,” Sam murmured, “this is our Dad. John Winchester.”

John had dressed in a pair of old jeans and a dark shirt when Sam had warned him they had company, and Dean sneered as he saw the older man try to smooth out the shirt, as if he were afraid of what Adam might think of his wrinkles.

But Adam was staring at the man with such devoted hope and determination that Dean couldn't believe he had even noticed the state of John’s clothes. “Hey, Dad.”

 _Sir_. He didn't say it aloud, but there should be a “sir” there in that greeting. Dean saw Sam's eyes flick at him, and he knew his brother-his real brother-was thinking the same thing.

John smiled shakily. “Adam. You're tall.”

Sam snorted.

Adam stood up straighter. “It's been five years.”

 _Sir_ , Dean corrected silently.

John held out his hand, and Adam dove into his arms.

Sam's eyes closed, but Dean stared, an anger flaring in his chest, and, yes, hurt too, because there it was. That was why he and Sam called their father _sir_ and this kid didn't. There was no pounding on backs, no firm push to arm’s length. There was no push at all, in fact. This boy, whoever he was, was allowed to really hug John, to spend more than an instant in his arms. This boy was the son Dean had always thought he and Sam were. Now he knew the truth. He and Sam were good soldiers, and John was their commanding officer. Adam was a prodigal son, and John was his father.

When he was Adam’s age, Dean and Benny had been out hunting with some friends, and someone had made a mistake. Dean had taken an arrow from a compound bow in his thigh, and it had cut clear through to the other side, and jutted out of his leg, so that when he looked down, the bloody metal arrowhead greeted him. Doc Benton had said it was a miracle it wasn't a few centimeters in another direction, because it likely would have left permanent damage to the bone, and if Dean hadn't tied it off in time, the femoral artery would have made that entirely moot. As it was, Dean had nearly bled to death getting to the truck for Benny to drive them to the county hospital. Dean had kept conscious entirely by force of will, and had administered his own first aid while Benny drove like a madman along the dirt roads. When Sheriff Mills had gotten in contact with John on the road, he had asked to talk to Sam. Jody had placed him on speaker.

“He going to have use of that leg?”

Sam had frowned at Dean. “Y-yes, sir. They think.”

“Good. He's going to have to get that hay baled for Henriksen if I'm going to be able to pay for the medical bill.”

Jody had rolled her eyes. “John, forgetting the laws about hiring out a kid who's barely double digits, let's be realistic. He ain't going to be in working condition before the rains hit. Vic Senior is going to have to get up his own hay or hire somebody hasn't just been in a serious hunting accident!”

John's voice was low and deep. “My boy will be ready in time. See if he ain't. Dean, you there?”

He had bitten hard on his lip and controlled his breathing before speaking. “Yes, sir.”

“You promised Mr. Henriksen his hay will be up, didn't you?”

Dean had looked into Jody's eyes steadily. “Yes, sir, I did.”

“Ain't worth much to him if it lays on the ground when the rain comes, is it?”

“No, sir. I won't let that happen.”

“You want to get to where people know they can count on you to do a job. The way I know I can count on you.”

Jody had sighed. “John-”

“Yes, sir,” Dean had snapped. He didn't need the sheriff defending him from what was right. “I made a promise.”

“Means everything in this family, Dean,” John said softly. “Our word is all we got.”

Dean looked at Sam, with his wide eyes peeking out from under his hair. He smiled to let the younger boy know it was all right. “Yes, sir.”

He got the hay baled and in Henriksen Senior’s barn the afternoon before the storm that would have ruined it all. Pain and weakness would never get between Dean and his father's trust in him.

Adam didn't call him sir, and it made Dean want to hit him.

“Adam, what are you doing here, boy? Where's your mom?”

The teenager stepped back finally, reluctantly. “Back in Windom,” he said to the floor.

John gestured to Dean to lead them to the kitchen table they never used for anything but cleaning hunting rifles and fixing things. The four Winchester males awkwardly sat down, but Dean was up in an instant and pacing.

John watched him. “I guess you think you got a right to some answers.”

Dean shook his head, and his voice was a little deeper than he meant for it to be. “No, sir. No, sir, you don't never have to answer to me. You just tell me what you want done, and that's just what I'll do. That's what I'm for.”

Sam stared at him, then whirled on their father. “Good for fucking _you_ , but I want some answers!”

Dangerous dark eyes turned on the younger man then. “You watch your tone, boy,” John snapped.

Dean could feel his whole body reacting to his emotional exhaustion. He was breathing too shallowly. He felt like he might have to throw up. He wanted to hit someone, but he couldn't decide who, so he stared at the wall next to the picture of his mother and considered punching a hole right through that.

But Sam was livid. He had been quiet about it before, probably assuming Dean would step up to the plate. Now he glared hard into his father's eyes in a way Dean had never been able to.

Just looking at the two of them facing off made Dean think throwing up was going to win out over throwing a punch.

“You know what?” Sam growled. “You don't get to call me that. Not no more. I been John's boy for twenty-two fucking years, and was always proud to be it! But you look at me tonight, with that boy sitting right there come walking into our lives, and you knowing about him for fourteen years, you don't dare call me boy again!”

Dean stepped forward, with nowhere to go. “Sammy-”

The anger turned on him then. “No! Don't you do that! Not you! I just want one answer. Just one.” He turned to Adam, who cringed. “You going to college?”

“What?” he breathed.

Dean's eyes closed.

“Couple years. You think you'll go away to school? Take classes somewhere?”

Adam stared at him. “Yeah. Of course. I take the advanced classes. Or...I did.”

“Of course.” Sam nodded. “Of course, he says. Because he's real smart, ain't you, kid?”

John sighed. “Sam-”

“No,” Sam said bitterly, sitting back in his chair. “No, I get it. I'm glad you had one smart kid, Dad. You must be real proud. If ya’ll can excuse me, I'm going to tuck in. Think I'll take my bow out looking for white tails in the morning. You in, Dean?”

Dean sighed. His heart hurt. “Yeah. I'm in.”

Long legs carried his brother out of the room, and the three left behind listened to a door slam behind him.

Dean's eyes narrowed. “You ever been, Adam?” he snarled.

The boy blinked. “Been what?”

John watched his eldest with suspicion. “Dean…”

“Hunting.” Dean looked Adam in the eyes, silently daring him. “See, the muzzleloader season don't start for a while, but if you got the right permit, it's always bow season. John Winchester’s boys are the best shots in the county. And what I'm hearing is you're one of John Winchester’s boys.” Dean stalked after his brother-his real brother. “Welcome to the family, kid,” he called back. “Be ready to leave by four thirty.”

John sighed.

***

Adam watched Dean stomp out of the room, and then he looked back at his father. “So...you obviously never told them about me.”

The man smiled grimly. “Not much point in that, was there? I never figured they'd know you.”

He nodded slowly. “How come?”

John shook his head. “Adam, your mama made it damn clear all she was wanting from me was money. You can see I gave her all I could.” He gestured around the room. “I don't got much. She got remarried, and I got a note in the mail telling me not to bother no more. Said you was taken care of by a better man than me.”

Adam felt his world tremble, as foundations crumbled with these words. “You...She told you…”

“Said I wasn't to send nothing nor contact you in any way.”

He looked down at his hands. “That's why I haven't seen you since he came. I thought maybe you...I don't know. Maybe you just figured I was somebody else's problem now. My step-dad’s.”

He could feel John watching him. His face burned with it. “He a good man? Like Kate said?”

The weariness of travel, the panic of being caught, the fear of poisonous snakes and fierce bobcats and angry big brothers, and the relief of finding his father all hit him at once, and he burst into tears.

Without a word, he felt strong arms wrap around him, and he collapsed into a powerful chest that smelled of stale cigarette smoke and soap, and he sobbed. It was the first time he had felt safe in years. He didn't know what sort of men these Winchesters were, but he could tell, in spite of the fog of tension and heat of resentment, they were good people.

“I can't be in that house anymore, Dad,” he whispered when he could. “I just can't.”

John was nodding. “Then you won't be.”

And this time, his sobs expressed relief beneath the anguish.


	6. The Monster that Ate Me Didn't Get that Memo

Sam was angry, but not at the kid. And even if he were, it was impossible to stay so while watching the teen try to handle a compound bow. Dean was smirking, leaning on a tree, and chewing on a blade of grass. 

“You know,” Sam snickered, “as a guy that once got shot in a major artery because a kid didn't know how to use a bow proper, you should be the first one in line to help him.”

Dean shrugged, and spat out the grass. “I'm willing to take the hit.”

Sam laughed, and moved forward himself. He reached out to steady the flailing bow, which was much too long for the child. “Whoa. Okay, Katniss. Relax. You've done an excellent job of alerting every white tail in the area that we're out here. Real noble of you, giving them a fighting chance like that.”

He could hear Dean snorting behind him. 

“Now, look. See here? You're the smart one, remember? Think on it logical. What's the only way this could possibly be used? This here's a limb bolt. Twist like this. There it is. Step on the string here, or you'll end up whipping yourself in your pretty face, and that'd be a mite hard to explain to your daddy.”

Sam could feel the frustration wafting off the boy, but he could see the stubborn determination as well. Adam, as much as Sam hated to think it, was a Winchester, at least in that regard. 

“There you go,” he murmured. His voice was softening. It wasn't the kid’s fault, after all. A restless night of sleep, followed by some black coffee and a bit of self-critical soul searching, had helped Sam see that. If this boy had taken off on a four hundred mile trek to find John, it was clearly because something was very wrong back home. Sam had often wanted to leave this town, but he had never needed to. Continuing to resent the kid for existing wasn't the kind of person Sam was. Or at least not the kind he wanted to be. He had been ready to give up his bed and help a stranger last night. Like it or not, this kid was family, and he should be willing to do far more than that. 

It would have been easier if Adam were a disagreeable brat. But instead, he was eager to learn, and quick-witted, with the same sort of dry, biting humor that Sam and Dean enjoyed. By the time they headed back to the house, Sam was grudgingly fond of the kid, and he could tell Dean was too. 

“Well,” Dean reported as he hung up his coat, “he didn't shoot no deer, but he didn't shoot no people neither, so I'm calling that a win.” He stopped walking abruptly, forcing Sam and Adam to sidestep so as not to ram into him. “Who the hell are you?”

Sam followed his cold stare, and found John sitting in his chair, hands clenched on the armrests, across from a man in a pale coat and dark suit. 

Things seemed funny suddenly, as the man's ice blue gaze locked onto him. He could hear Adam swearing softly beside him, could feel Dean step in front of the boy protectively-and wasn't that interesting?-but it was as though Sam's vision had been narrowed to include only this mysterious man who held his eyes captive. His stomach tightened, and his shoulders rolled forward, as if he could make himself small enough to go unnoticed, in spite of the fact that he was the largest object in the house. He wished the man would look away, because Sam couldn't. 

Then the world opened up again, and everyone was talking at once. Adam was diving for the door, and Dean took hold of his arm, and Sam wasn't sure what was happening, so he did what he always did, and trusted Dean's judgement. He took Adam’s other arm to hold him steady. But his eyes stayed locked onto the stranger, who stood awkwardly and took a step toward them. 

Not awkward, Sam thought. It was an adamant feeling, almost a scolding, inside his head. Not awkward at all. Graceful. His movement was graceful. Like a dancer, or a fighter. Not awkward. Uncomfortable. The man was completely uncomfortable. 

“Adam, I'm sorry. I had to find you.”

Adam squirmed hopelessly in his brothers’ grasps. “No you didn't!” he shouted back. “You could have given up!”

The man sighed, his expression pained and taut. 

John was sighing. “Boys, this here's Cas Custos. Adam's social worker.”

Dean looked at Sam. 

Sam frowned then. “Social workers don't make house calls four hundred miles away.”

Then came Jody Mills’ voice, as she emerged from the kitchen with a beer bottle. “They do when they've become so attached to a kid that they've quit their job so’s they can adopt them.”

All eyes turned to find Castiel's lowered to gaze at the floor. “Only if...only if that's what is best for him.”

Jody rolled her eyes. “That's for a court to decide. You don't get to just chase a kid across state lines-”

“I wasn't chasing-”

Adam made a noise in his throat. “You...Cas, you were gonna...I thought you were going to make me go back home! Back to...them!”

Castiel's whole heart was written out all over his face. “Adam,” he began, then looked at the older brothers. “Please. He's not a bad kid.”

Dean nodded at Sam, and they both let the boy go. Dean moved to put himself just slightly between the boy and this stranger, but also gestured for Sam to block the door. Sam closed it, and leaned against it. He let his gaze wander back to this man, and was grateful for something to hold him steady. He was certain he hadn't felt this way while sober in his whole life. 

Castiel smiled tightly at them, then turned back to Adam. “I'm..as the sheriff says, I'm not the one who gets to decide that.” He reached out and put his hand on Adam’s shoulder gently, as if no one else were in the room. “If it were my decision, I'd have taken you from that house three years ago, Adam, when you first showed up on my radar. You know that. I was never allowed to say it before. But you must have known it.”

Sam could see tears pooling in the boy’s eyes now. “I liked to pretend that one day you'd take me away from there. But you didn't, not for years. And even after they finally came and took me from the house, they...they talked about it like I was going back. So I ran. And when I figured out you were coming after me, I thought...I thought you were taking me back to my step-dad, and...and I can't go back there, Cas.”

The anguish in the man's blue eyes was difficult to see. But Sam couldn't look away. “Adam, you know I wanted to take you away from all that. You know...It's why I quit the minute I heard you were gone from the home you were placed in. I just...I just want you to feel safe someplace. And whatever it takes, I'm going to make that happen.”

John stood shakily. “He's under my roof for now. And so are you. So settle in. Jody, would it be all right if we waited till Monday to contact anybody?”

She rolled her eyes. She did that a lot, Sam noted. “John Winchester, one of these days, I'm going to get in trouble, and I'm taking your ass down with me. And probably Bobby Singer’s,” she added as an afterthought. 

John snorted at that. “Adam? No running, boy. You understand me? We face our problems in this family.”

“Or drink them,” Dean murmured so only Sam could hear. 

Sam snickered, but didn't take his eyes off Castiel. 

Adam was nodding. “Yeah. I understand.”

Castiel sighed. “I think you mean, yes sir,” he corrected gently. 

And Sam fell immediately and completely in love with Castiel without warning.


	7. We May Be Blood...

Castiel didn't want to stay in this house. It smelled like cigarettes and coffee, and it reeked of tension. But he was not letting these men decide what was best for Adam without him. He needed to be a part of the discussion. The sheriff had gone home, promising to return first thing on Monday. She was giving them the weekend before alerting anyone to Adam's whereabouts. Under other circumstances, Castiel would be appalled by this blatant abuse of power. As it was, he was grateful for it. He needed time. Adam needed time.

Adam had said a lot of things before he, John and Dean had taken off in John’s pickup. But Castiel felt as though his ears had been boxed by one statement in particular.

“I'm not Claire, you know.”

Of course he wasn't. No one was Claire. Not even Claire anymore. “No,” he had said. “I know. But you're hurting, like she did. You ran like she did. I can't...I can't let you...I can't lose you too. Tell me what you need to feel safe, and we will make sure that's what you get. Please, Adam. I just can't.”

The boy had smiled at him. “Yeah. Okay. I promised Dad I wouldn't run anymore. But I'm not going back to that place. I feel bad about leaving Mom behind, but...she doesn't see it, Cas. She just won't see it. And she took his side. I love her, but if she loves him more, I gotta look out for me. Don't I? I mean…”

Castiel wanted to hold the boy, the way Claire never let him. “I know. You're right. Your mother isn't in danger, we think, and you have to do what's best for you.”

The relief in his eyes was overwhelming. “Yeah. Look, I'm gonna go with Dad and Dean. They said they wanted to talk with me. You're not going to leave, right?”

He smiled weakly. “Not until I know you're safe.” He watched the boy bound off after his father, watched Dean slip behind the wheel of the pickup and wave Adam in.

When they had disappeared, Castiel looked around him and sighed.

“Ain't much to look at,” a voice murmured behind him.

Castiel turned and looked up at the imposing figure of Sam Winchester. He leaned against the wall, shoulders rolled in, and gaze low. It seemed almost as though he didn't want Castiel to see him at all, which was ridiculous, considering the sheer size of the man.

“But it's-it's not so bad as you maybe think. I mean...Don't get me wrong,” he laughed awkwardly. “It's not an easy way to live. But we got a lot more than a lot of folk.”

He wasn't sure what to say. “I don't doubt that your father would provide a safe environment. I just wonder if it's the right one for Adam. But that isn't up to me.”

Sam continued to stare down at the dried mud on his boots. “Who's it up to?”

“A judge.”

“And he won't have to go back to his step-daddy neither way?”

Castiel sighed. He lowered himself to a chair and ran his hand down his face. “I hope not. That man is a monster. I would sooner put Adam on a plane to nowhere than send him back. But I don't think it'll come to that.”

“Nowhere,” Sam said quietly. He sat across from him with obvious discomfort. “That where you think you are now?”

He looked up. “No. I just meant...anywhere is better than with his step-father. There isn't enough evidence to put the man away forever. But nobody wants to send Adam back there.”

“Good. You can see in his eyes he's afraid of that. Ain't no way to have to live.”

The young man was handsome, Castiel realized suddenly. Now that he was really looking at him, he couldn't take his eyes away. He looked like he had stepped out of a western romance novel cover, all long sable hair and browned, muscled arms, intelligent eyes. He was easily one of the best looking men Castiel could ever remember encountering. How had he not noticed before?

“I guess you…guess you ain't up for talking. I'll let you alone.” Sam began stand, but Castiel rushed to stop him.

“No, wait. I've been rude. I'm sorry. Your father opened his house to me when he couldn't know anything about me. I have no reason or right to be so rude. Please forgive me. You're Sam, yes?”

There was the ghost of a smile under the lowered eyes now. “Yeah. Sam. I'm-” He snorted then. “I guess I'm the middle child. Now don't that explain a lot?”

Castiel smiled back. There was something very charming about this shy man. “You and your brother really didn't know about Adam?”

Sam shook his head, still staring at his hands instead of his company. “We really didn't. And I guess we ain't done being mad about that. But point is, kid’s family. And if you ask any good country folk, they'll tell you that you can't never have too much of that. If we’d known Adam was out there, that he was in trouble, we’d’ve found him, and that's the truth.”

That was the truth. Castiel could see it as plain as the dimples that appeared on the young man's face when he smiled. This man, and his brother, would have been there for Adam if they had only known. “I believe you.” It was said in a low voice, almost as though he didn't really want to say it at all.

Sam nodded. He risked a small glance at Castiel, then lowered his eyes again. “You need anything? Something to eat? A bunk to rest in?”

How could there be such a glaring difference between these men Adam had found and the parents he ran from? Adam's step-father probably made six times the salary of that local sheriff, who likely made more than the three Winchester men combined. Numbers alone meant that Adam would be better off back in Windom. And what did Castiel himself have to offer? He had some savings, but he had just quit his job to chase down a boy who had been on his caseload for three years. No one was going to hire him again after that.

“Sir?” Sam said uncomfortably. “Mr. Custos?”

He smiled again, wearily. “Cas. Please.” He laughed a little. “You know, Michael Arch never once called me Mister. His lawyer, Zachariah, called me plenty of things, but Mister wasn't one of them. I've been fighting the most powerful men I've ever met to keep Adam out of that house. And the irony is that Arch doesn't even want him. He just resents anything being taken from him. And Zachariah doesn't care how much pain he causes. He spent months on the strategy that Adam would tell the judge he wanted to go home. That he could wave enough money at the kid, and he'd finally say yes to Michael. And he would call me from wherever we had placed him to tell me. He would cry and ask me if he should just give up, go be whatever Michael wanted him to be. And the last time he called...I could hear it in his voice. He was already gone. I had been cutting my caseload for a few weeks, preparing to take steps toward fostering and adopting Adam myself. It was going to be an incredible battle, and I didn't want my other kids to be neglected because I was stupid enough to think I could take on the Arch family. When I realized he was calling to say goodbye, I dropped everything.”

Sam had listened in quiet curiosity. Now he looked up to meet Castiel's gaze. Those hazel-green eyes had a fierceness to them that he hadn't seen before. “Money don't give nobody the right to hurt a kid. And a judge can say what he likes, but if it ain't what's right, you can bet Dean and me won't let it stand. I never wanted a little brother myself. Hell, not sure Dean ever did either. But I know what it is to fight for family. And we don't leave nobody behind. We won't leave Adam behind.”

Castiel smiled at him gratefully. “You don't even know him. And you don't know me, or what Michael did to him.”

“That ain't really the part that matters, is it? You're fighting a monster. Adam's running from one. My dad might not look like much now, but he's a war hero. He taught me and Dean to fight for what's right, and to always be ready in case somebody needs help. I don't know Adam from Adam, as they say round here. But he's fighting hard against something trying to eat him up. My daddy's son ain't never going to do that alone. Might be the one thing redeemable about John’s boys. We don't back down from a good fight, and we got each other's backs. Adam's gonna be one of John's boys, then that includes him. Even if he ain't living with Dad.”

Castiel caught the rise of Sam's eyebrow. “You-you mean…”

Sam took a deep breath. “Cas, my daddy's been through a lot. And raising boys was never his strongest skill. Dean and me...We did fine. But Dad’s got PTSD real bad. Always was bad, but about three years ago, he had himself a stroke that took him out of work, and another about a year later that nearly took him out of the world. And some days, he ain't here. He's a good man, and I love him. But there's a reason me and Dean ain't moved on from here.”

He nodded slowly. “So...Adam isn't…”

“If need be, me and Dean can take care of him too. But he's got four years till he can head off to college like he wants. I don't think he's gonna want to spend four years in this house watching his daddy just get worse every week. So if he's got a better offer? We’ll support that, and we’ll put all our fight into that.”

Tears stung his eyes suddenly, and he blinked. “But John…”

Sam shook his head, and went back to staring at his hands. “Dad and Dean are going to tell him. That's what they're gone to do right now.”

“But you didn't even…”

“Me and Dean don't gotta talk to know. And Dad don't give the orders round here no more. Dean told me with his eyes on his way out the door. Decision’s made. Long as Adam ain't going back to what's chasing him, we’re gonna support his best option. May be that that's you.”

He took a shallow breath, and he let it out too fast. “Thank you. I can't...Just thank you.”

The man nodded. “So I guess that makes you family too.”

Castiel looked up in surprise. “I-I don't have family,” he stammered.

“None?”

“No, I...I had a half-brother and his wife who died many years back, and a niece who...I've got nobody now. Except Adam.”

“We're going to fix that,” Sam said quietly. “Everybody should have family. And an old friend of ours once told us that family don't end in blood.” He stood and wiped his palms on his jeans. “I got chores that need doing. You decide you need to rest, my room’s right there. Make yourself at home.”

Castiel realized that after all these years spent lonely, he suddenly didn't want to be alone just then. “Could I help instead?”

The soft, bright smile on Sam's face sent his heart into somersaults. “Come on then,” he said.


	8. Give Me One Good Reason

Dean could hear his mother's screams in his head. Sometimes Jo was sitting up in bed, holding his head to her lap and stroking his hair, when he woke up in a shaking sweat. But it wasn't the fire that held any power over him all these years later. It was the notion that his mother had been trapped at the end. He could think of nothing worse than that. Trapped. 

Some days that fear was very literal. He refused to corner animals while hunting. He would not use traps like cousin Mark sometimes did. When he and Sam had wrestled as children, Dean had grown angry at Sam's stubborn refusal to tap out of a hold. The only job he had ever left undone was that time Bobby's neighbor had asked him to help clean out her crawl space, and he had hyperventilated when he had realized how tight a fit it was. Bobby had done the job himself, and never said a word about it, but Dean hadn't been able to look him in the eyes for a long time after. 

Other days, it was a more figurative fear. He saw his father trapped in the nightmares of the past, and wanted nothing more in the world than to save his father from reliving those horrible memories. But more often, it was Sam who made his chest constrict in that frightening way. He had watched Sam get himself in too deep with Ruby, and had been terrified that there would be no escape hatch for his little brother. And there was that other thing. 

Dean knew why Sam felt he needed to hide part of himself. Their small, country town was hardly the peak of liberalism. But there was a difference between being discrete and being ashamed. One was sadly prudent. The other was just another way Sam was sealing himself into a cage Dean could never save him from. Just like his father. Just like his mother. Unlike Mary's desperate screams and John’s painful roars, Sam’s agony was silent. Only Dean could hear it. 

Now there was Adam. 

“Do I have to tell you what he did to me?”

John was quiet, but Dean shook his head. “No. We wouldn't ask that. That ain't the point. You want to talk, we can listen. But he hurt you. He scared you. And that's all there is to it, far as we're concerned. He made you feel trapped.”

His father glanced at him over Adam's head, but said nothing, and Dean kept his eyes on the road. 

“But you said you weren't going to take me.”

The boy’s voice was breaking his heart. He sounded too much like Sam from years ago. “Now I didn't say that, did I? I said if it comes down to you going back to Michael Arch or you staying with us, I'm going to look Michael in the eye and say no. He's going to have to go through me and Sammy, and there ain't nobody in this world wants to try that. But the guy that came for you. Cas. Dad’s got a good feeling on him. So do I. And I know Sam does.”

From the corner of his vision, he could see John smile at that. “Son, you're among family. But that don't make you one of us. Dean and Sam, they were raised in this place. They know the good and they know the bad, and they know the way to the interstate when it gets too much. But you? You're tough, kid. But you can't hack this life. And I don't want it for you. That Cas guy cares about you like you was his own, and that should make me pissed off, but it don't. Something about him...He's one of the good guys, Adam. Dean's right. We're family, and we're gonna fight for you. But that don't mean you belong here. Not with me.”

The boy looked sick to his stomach when Dean glanced at him, but he was nodding. “So...it isn't that you...don't want me.”

In a gesture John never used with his other sons, he patted the boy’s leg. “It ain't that. It's been a rough few years on all of us. And I ain't as well as I like to think I am.”

Dean swallowed hard. 

“But I know my boys, and I know they'll do what they got to in order to make sure nobody is going to hurt you no more. And Custos too. I took a measure of him, and so did my friend Jody, and he's sincere. You did right in finding us, son. And he did right in what he done too. But you understand me?”

“I think so.”

Dean nodded. He pulled into the parking lot of the gas station, and got out. He nodded Adam out too, and reached into his pocket for his wallet for cash. “Go on in for me. Put ten on the tank, and grab whatever you need for staying another few nights. They'll have what you need.”

After the boy had disappeared, Dean waited for the wave from the attendant, and began to pump his gasoline. 

John’s voice came from the open truck window. “You gave him enough?”

Dean didn't meet his eyes. “Gave him plenty. If he's going to run, now’s the time.”

The truck door slammed, and John walked slowly to his side. John didn't do much walking these days, and Dean was prepared to steady him if necessary. “That's good,” he murmured. “How much you call plenty?”

Dean snorted. “Four twenties was all I got. Maybe next time you get a son coming to town you could give me notice to go hit a machine for cash. But eighty’s enough, even after the ten for the tank, to get him to a city if that's what he's going to do.”

“Hope he don't.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

John sighed. “Dean, I know you want to know what's different about him.”

He ground his teeth, and looked away. “No, sir. You got nothing to explain to me.”

“That don't mean you don't want to know.”

Dean shrugged. “Maybe I wonder. But Sam and me were near to grown by the time that boy was born. Mom was dead a long time. No reason you couldn't be…”

John smiled sadly. “Lonely? I was. But that ain't what I'm talking about. You want to know why I fooled around with his mama, you can figure that out your own self. You want to know why I treat him different, that could take a little explaining.”

Dean chewed his lip and removed the pump from his tank to cap it. “What then?” he capitulated. He could not meet his father's eyes. “Me? I get it. I get maybe I wasn't what a man like you can be real proud of. In trouble at school, can't find much work...But Sam? Sam's real smart, Dad, and…” He cleared his throat, and at last, he forced his eyes up. “Sam coulda used what you're giving this kid. Guess I thought you didn't have it to give, so that made it okay. But you do. So if you're in a talking mood, you tell me why you never gave it to Sammy.”

“Son? Let's make something real clear between us. I've always been proud of my boys. Both of you. I may ask a lot of you, but you never let me down. Never.”

Dean's chest was tightening mercilessly. 

John shook his head. “If Mary had been around, things would have been different. But I won't apologize for the way I raised you boys, not when you turned out like you did. You're good men. Maybe you and Jo will have a little guy one day, and you'll know what I mean when I tell you this. Every boy is different, Dean. I never had much of a relationship with my father. So when I realized I was raising two boys on my own, I found myself looking back on my days in the military.”

He laughed without humor. “Think that's obvious,” he said bitterly.

“Watch your tone.”

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he snapped. 

John glared at him until Dean's own gaze weakened and lowered. It was an exchange as familiar as Sam's smirk, trading glares with his father and losing every time. Only Sam had the fortitude to stare down John Winchester. 

“Yes, sir,” he said again with a sigh. 

John began again, as though he had not been interrupted. “I taught you boys what I knew, and that weren't much, except hunting and fighting and hard work. But every boy is different, and every boy needs different things to keep him healthy and strong. You needed your ass kicked most days, Dean, and that's just the truth. I worked you over-hard because if I didn't, you'd of got yourself into something you didn't want to try to get out of. If I could keep you in camo and denim, maybe I'd have a chance to keep you outta orange.”

The words hit him in the chest like a sledgehammer, and he stumbled back a step. But now that they were said, he recognized that John believed every word of it. 

“I knew you wasn't bad, son. But you coulda done bad things. And it was up to me to keep you right.”

Dean nodded. He clenched his jaw, and took a breath. “And Sammy?”

“Sam.” John smiled helplessly. “Sam? Changed one day to the other, didn't he? I never had a chance to figure one thing before there was another. And there was always something dark in that boy. Saw it when he was five years old, watching me like he thought maybe he could take me down if he caught me off guard. But then the next minute, he'd be the sweetest thing anybody ever seen. Kid could cloud over the sun or brighten up the rains, and still can. That's a fact.”

Dean snorted. “That's your story? Sam was moody?”

John laughed then, and it sounded all wrong to Dean. “Sam is a moody son of a bitch, and far too smart and stubborn for either of us, Dean. I just thank the Lord he's also gay, because I can't think what he and that Ruby girl coulda got into together if he'd really loved her.”

A wave of mixed emotions washed over Dean, and he was instantly exhausted. “You, uh...you know? That Sammy's…”

“I know my boys. Knowing Sam's why I don't never want him out trucking like I did. It's too many hours listening to voices inside your own head. You-you could just turn on your music, watch the road ahead. But not Sammy. He can't be alone like that. It'd kill him. You been working your whole life to keep that boy safe from everything else. Be a shame if we couldn't save him from the darkness inside him. If you can't save him, you'd have to watch him kill himself. And I can't live long enough to see what that would do to you.”

Dean's mouth was dry, and he couldn't speak. He simply stared at his father in horror. 

“Sam’s special, and that's a fact. But there's a demon in him, like I got in me. You got one too. And this Adam kid...He's family for sure. But he ain't one of us. And I don't want that for him. We're gonna protect him, because that's what we do for family. But he don't belong in an old house full of men fighting their own demons.” 

Adam emerged from the gas station with a small bag of toiletries, and handed Dean fifty-seven dollars in change. John smiled, patted the kid on the shoulder, and got back into the truck.


	9. She Worked the Graveyard Shift...

When she came to the door, she was dressed in the same color of his nightmares, that fiery orange corset and long black skirt and black boots. It was obvious she was heading out, in spite of the late hour. But she grinned and bit into her lip when she saw who it was. “Sam,” she hissed. 

He snarled instead of smiling. “Hey, bitch. I'm heading out on my bike for a few hours. And I might kill a guy. You in?”

Ruby’s dark eyes gleamed in the darkness. “Can we stop for fries on the way back?”


	10. They Warned Me About You

Sam had spent the afternoon with Castiel, and it was far more entertaining and enjoyable than it should have been. For one thing, it quickly became obvious that the man had never spent a minute on working land in his life.

“It's a chicken, Cas, not a pet.”

“But it's wonderful! Look at it!”

Sam let him pour too much feed out for the birds, and smiled at his delight in their frenzy. “Mostly, they feed themselves good enough, but come August, pickings is scarce. Too hot.” He leaned on the fencing and watched Castiel try to pet the birds. “You're like to lose an eye, you come between them and their feed,” he warned softly.

The dogs adored Castiel immediately. The moment they stepped into the back pasture, they were set upon by the pack of them. Castiel dropped to his knees and let them lick his face, and he scratched every ear.

“You got friends for life in them dogs,” Sam laughed. “They don't get near enough attention. You're spoiling them.”

“Are they all mutts?”

Sam chuckled. “Hard to say. They wander up outta nowhere. We take them for a snip and a rabies up in town, then bring them back to do as they want. Long as they ain't making new pups, we don't mind newcomers. That black one there is newest. Sadie. I think she wants you to join the pack your own self.”

His words delighted Castiel. He snuggled her in particular, and she followed him happily the rest of the afternoon.

“Come on.”

“We didn't feed them.”

He smiled. “They're dogs, Cas. They chase rabbits and rats. They ain't starving. We only feed them if they're sick or in winter or such.”

Castiel stared. “Dogs hunt?”

“God, you're a city boy, ain't you?”

A blush filled Castiel's cheeks, and it was the sweetest thing Sam had ever seen. “I guess I am. I'd like to see you catch a cab some day,” he retorted.

Sam chuckled. “You managed to catch a chicken earlier. I think you win.”

He looked down at the scratches on his arms. “They're nearly as mean as cabbies.”

It was amazing how easy it was with Castiel. The man was attractive, no doubt, but he was also so genuine in everything he did. The wide-eyed joy he took in everything on John’s land was endearing.

Sam was proud of that land. It had been his grandfather’s, and his grandfather's before him, back to Moisha Campbell, and it came to Sam and his brother through Mary. It should belong to them. This piece of earth wasn't Christian’s. John and Mary had built that house, had planned to live in it together. They had stayed in the trailer until the house was finished, and that was the firetrap that had killed her. But this land, the house, and everything else, was John's. They worked it. They loved it. It should belong to them.

Unfortunately, the law said otherwise, and time was running out. They had discovered about ten months back that John had not been making payments to Christian as they had thought. That was when Dean had taken over the finances completely. He had been in charge of them for years, but now it was frighteningly obvious John could not be relied upon for such things at all. They had made as many payments up as they could, but they were behind.

Sam loved that Castiel got so much pleasure from the land that ran through his blood. All afternoon, they spent fixing fencing, hammering nails into the old tree stand, digging in the garden, and all the while, Castiel took on a look of peace and comfort that made his blue eyes shine.

Then came the phone call.

“Excuse me, Sam,” he had murmured. “This can't be good.” He stepped away, but did not bother to find privacy. “Hello…”

Sam watched with growing concern as Castiel's face drained of color, of peace, of mirth. Even his lips seemed to turn gray.

“Michael is not this boy’s father, Lucien. Even if I knew where he was, I wouldn't...You can do whatever you want to me. But Adam isn't Michael's possession. He isn't something to be bought and used. That's what your brother does. Do you know that? He treats that child as an object to do with as he pleases. And your brother is sick. If I were you, Lucien, I'd stay out of this whole thing…You're not taking Adam Milligan. I won't let you...Michael has already ruined me financially. You can kill me if that's what keeps Adam safe. He doesn't even want the child; don't you get that? You're willing to kill a man just so your brother doesn't lose a battle?...I will never tell you anything I know about Adam...I've no doubt that you will. You'll find me. You'll hurt me. Maybe you'll kill me. But you won't get Adam. And that's good enough for me.”

Sam stared in horror at this man, who was trembling in fear but speaking with a steady, firm voice.

“Your family is just so determined to be above the law. You throw money and power at everything until you get what you want. But you can't do that with a child...I heard you...Yes, I know the place. But I won't be there, and neither will Adam. I've told you I don't know where he is...Believe what you want to believe, Lucien. He's long gone…” Tears began streaming down Castiel's cheeks, but his voice remained strong. “You leave the Winchesters out of this. They're just some small town farm hands. I don't even think John's even still alive, and his sons don't know a thing about Adam. If he's smart, he headed for New York, where his mom’s got cousins...I heard you. And like I said, I won't be there.” Castiel hung up the phone, and staggered to the ground to sit.

Sam hurried to his side. “Tell me,” he said quietly. Fury was running wild through his veins.

Castiel smiled at him sadly. “I guess you and your brother might be the best option after all,” he responded. “Michael called in his little brother, Lucien. He's the nastiest human I've ever even heard of.”

Before he could stop himself, a question popped out of Sam's mouth. “Minnesota has mafia?”

Castiel burst into nervous laughter until he shook with it. He wiped at his eyes. “No, Sam. We've got a thug. We've got what amounts to a rich psychopath who just looks for things to break. Michael has been keeping him out of the system his whole life, not because he loves him so much but because he ensures that all of Michael's business rivals have accidents that can never be traced back to him. Everybody knows. But no one can prove anything. No, Sam. Mafias are made up of families. These guys...All they've ever needed was the two of them. A friend of mine, Balt, is a detective in Minneapolis, and when he found out I was trying to get between Michael Arch and something he considered his, he came to me, drove down to warn me in person how dangerous that was. He said Michael will take me apart, and Lucien will break what's left.”

“And now?”

“And now he's giving me one last chance, to bring the boy to him, a few hours from here. When I don't, he’ll hunt me down and kill me. But maybe he will leave you alone, and give up on Adam. Lucien doesn't care about Adam. He just wants somebody's blood. If he gets mine, maybe he'll just stop. In any case, I'll make him chase me in the opposite direction. Leave him breadcrumbs. I can't have him getting to Adam.”

Sam nodded slowly, and did not meet the man's eye as they both stood and brushed themselves off. “Where's he want you to meet him?”

Castiel turned to stare at him. “What does that matter? I'll let him track me if it keeps your brother safe, but I'm not suicidal. I'm not going there.”

“No. But your buddy Balt. Would he be willing to make the trip, or at least send somebody else?”

The blue eyes narrowed. “Of course, if he thought he could do anything. He can't arrest him, Sam. There's no evidence, no warrant. His guys have been trying to get something airtight on this man for years. Something that would preferably take Michael down with him.”

Sam continued to nod. “Just call him. Give him and me the address. I'll do the rest. And you stay here where my big brother can keep you safe. You look out for my little brother. I ain't had time to get to know him yet, and I'd like to. So do what I said.”

“What are you going to do?” Castiel breathed hoarsely.

“You let me worry about that. I don't like bullies. And you're a good man, one of the best far as I see it. You're worth a lot more to that kid than I am.” He turned back toward the house, then stopped and called over his shoulder. “But you know...I do this and save your ass, and Adam's? Assuming I don't die or go to prison, you can owe me a beer someplace.”

Just on the edge of his vision, he saw a shocked smile spread across a pale face. “Yeah. Well, I just learned of a very...interesting roadhouse nearby.”

Sam smiled to himself and began walking back to the house to prepare.

Now, he and Ruby were stepping silently into the building which sat ominously at the entrance to Graceland Cemetery in Avoca, Iowa, just off routes 80 and 59. They had left their bikes a half mile out. Ruby’s knife was tucked into her skirts, and Sam held his father's old Colt revolver and Dean's pearl grip pistol in their holsters on his belt.

Ruby grinned at him, her teeth flashing white against the darkness. “Graveside murders. The guy is dramatic.”

“Apparently he's a psychopath, Ruby. Don't go getting hot because he's your type of crazy.”

She smirked. “Why'd you bring me then?”

“Because if I'm getting killed tonight, there ain't nobody in the world I want bleeding out with me more than you.”

“You're such a romantic. Don't forget you promised me fries if we don't die.”

“I'll buy you some damn deep-fried crack. Shut up.” He took a deep breath. “Hello?” he called. “Lucien Arch? Castiel Custos sent me. I know where Adam Milligan is.”

A pair of eyes gleamed in the dark, and Sam held his breath. The man emerged from shadows like they were his natural habitat. “You know where Adam is?”

“Yeah. Come out where I can see you.”

Ruby purred deep in her throat as the man stepped into the moonlight coming from a window. “Well, now, look at you. This ain't a man who cowers behind his big brother like you do, Sam. Look at him.”

Lucien stared at her. “I don't need Michael. I use him.”

She stepped forward, her smile becoming nearly feral. “You don't need anyone, do you?”

“Ruby?” Sam snapped. “Get away from him.”

“Mm. You're right, Sam. He's my type. Bad. Powerful. I can smell it on him. Smells like blood. He's what you could have been, but never had the guts to be, Sam. Lucien Arch. A killer. Too bad he's on his brother's leash.”

Lucien growled audibly. “Michael sends me to kill so he can take people's money, and I do it for the high. He sends me because he's too weak to do it himself.”

She smirked. “I don't believe you,” she stated flatly. “Prove it to me. Prove it to me that you're what they say you are, and I'll help you slice up this country boy, and then I'll tell you where his brother is. I'll even help you take out your own brother so you don't have that collar around your neck anymore.”

Lust beamed from Lucien’s eyes as she drew her nails down his throat, leaving dark red scratches behind. “Who are you?” he breathed.

“I'm better and badder than you. I can see in your eyes what you want. Just like all the rest. I can always see just what a man really wants, in an instant. I did it with him.” She gestured carelessly behind her toward Sam. “I looked in his eyes and got everything I needed to know to twist his little heart and wring it out. I'm his worst nightmare. And I'm always looking for another soul to eat. How's yours?”

Lucien was mesmerized by the woman. He watched her stalk around him like a cat. “You're beautiful.”

Ruby snorted. “Oh, honey. I'm a lot more than that. Just ask him.”

Sam ground his teeth. “Ruby, stop. We're just here to talk to the guy. Save it for the poor boys back home. This one’s out of your league.”

“Oh, I don't know. I think he's exactly what I've been waiting for. Aren't you?” She hooked a nail under Lucien’s chin, and smiled as he gasped. “Prove it to me. Prove to me you'll kill for me. Prove to me you've killed before, that it isn't all talk and hearsay.”

Lucien snarled at her. “I don't have to prove myself to you! You're no one!”

Ruby shrugged, and let him go. “I guess you were right, Sam. He's all talk.”

A hand shot out and snatched Ruby’s wrist.

Sam pulled his gun from its holster. “Let her go!”

But Lucien yanked Ruby closer, and began reciting in vivid, horrific detail the circumstances of his last murder. When he finished, he tossed her to the ground. “Don't tell me what I am. I'm Lucien Arch. And I'm here for Adam Milligan because my brother owns him. And he sent me to kill everything that gets in the way of him getting back his favorite chew toy. And when he gets Adam back?” The man began to laugh in a way Sam knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. “When he gets his hands on Adam, he's going to make what I do to you look like mercy.”

But as he took a step toward them, a dozen men in black rushed in from all directions. Before Lucien could even move, they were on him, dropping him to his chest, cuffing his hands behind his back. Guns were trained on him, and two men held him face down, reminding him of his rights, even as he spat curses at them.

A man in a dark suit, with a head full of blond curls, lowered a hand to help Ruby up. “You're quite the actress,” he said admiringly, in a slight British accent.

“Who says it was an act?” she purred.

The man smiled at her, and Sam rolled his eyes. “Ruby, detach. You're Balt? Friend of Cas?”

“I am.”

Sam sighed. “Did you get what you need?”

He nodded. “If I'd known Lucien liked to brag to beautiful women, I'd have brought one along years ago. The recording and witnesses among my boys should be enough to put both Arch brothers in a cage for the rest of their lives. I've already had a lieutenant Henriksen pick up Michael, and he's in holding.”

He looked up. “Henriksen? His first name Victor?”

Balt thought for a moment. “It might be. He's from your area, if I'm not mistaken.”

Sam smiled at last. “Yeah. He's a hometown boy. Let him know John Winchester’s boys appreciate what he's doing.”

“I'll tell him. And, Sam?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Take care of Cas and Adam. I'll be calling you in to testify before long. But most of what I need is right here. I'm grateful.” He glanced at Ruby sidelong. “Did I hear you say you liked fries? I've got some work to do and some messes to clean up, but I've got to eat after all that. It would be helpful to have you stay in town a day or two to give your statement. I'm happy to see to your lodging.”

She grinned at him. “I bet you will,” she responded, intrigued.

Sam sighed. “Careful, Balt. She's at least half as crazy as she pretended to be.”

The detective hummed appreciatively. “Tell your boyfriend I said hello.”

Ruby sneered at the blush appearing on Sam's face. “Is Cas gay too? Well, that's delicious, ain't it? Go on. I'm done with you.”

Sam shook his head in disbelief. “You're a special sort of bitch, you know that?”

“I'm awesome,” she corrected. Then she turned back to Balt. “Who do I have to kill to get some fries around here?”

Sam was glad for the three and a half hour ride home alone. Things weren't over with the Arch brothers. The trials could last a very long time. But he had done what he could to keep his family safe, and he called that a win. Now he had a man back home who owed him a beer, and he intended to call it in.


	11. Who the Hell Are You?

Judge Hanscum listened to all sides of the story, paying particular attention to what Sheriff Mills had to say about Castiel's character. “Look, your Honor, he did it the wrong way. Clearly. But he is entirely dedicated to that child. He took off across state lines because he couldn't stand to think of what could happen to him on his own. You know what happened to his niece when she ran. He did it wrong, should have gone through the right channels, but honestly, he didn't break any statutes I know of, and he did it because he was afraid for the kid.”

“Ufta,” the judge sighed. “Kid, come here. Talk with me and Jodes for a minute.”

Adam and Dean looked at one another. John and Sam were waiting with a very nervous Castiel outside. Dean gave Adam the little shove he needed. “Just be honest,” he said firmly. “No matter what she asks, you be honest, and tell her anything she wants to know. Even if it hurts.”

Adam nodded. His face was pale, but his eyes were determined.

Dean watched him go with a weary smile. “Kid ain't weak. No denying that.”

The only other person in the room sighed behind him.

Dean turned to her. “How you holding up?”

Kate Milligan-Arch was dressed in a dark pantsuit that must have been bought for the occasion. During the entire, exhausting process, she had said almost nothing, and she had trembled slightly all the while. Now, a tear slid down her cheek as she tried to smile. “I'm all right.”

“No you ain't.”

“No,” she agreed. “And I'll never be all right again. I let a monster into my son’s life. And then I didn't believe him when he tried to make me listen. I thought...I thought my son was sick. That he just needed therapy. Even when they took him away, I thought it was because he had convinced them of fantasies in his head. Michael was…” She choked on a sob. “He was entirely too good to be true. And I let him hurt my baby.”

Dean swallowed hard. “You didn't know.”

She turned to him very slowly, and her eyes never focused on his. They saw something completely different. “I didn't know,” she confirmed. “But he tried to help me see, and I didn't let him. I didn't protect him. And that's unforgivable.”

He was silent then. He thought about how he would react if Sam told him anyone, even their father, was hurting him in secret. In his heart, even though he felt sorry for this woman, he knew he would have listened, and he would have protected his brother at any cost. He understood why Kate hadn't wanted to believe it. But that didn't absolve her of not listening.

When the three speaking privately returned, Judge Hanscum sat again.

Dean looked at Jody, who nodded at him. He shot to his feet and hurried to the door to wave in the three men from outside, and Jo, who took his hand silently. The court reporter also stepped in and took her seat. They all sat anxiously, until Judge Hanscum spoke.

“Sheriff, thank you for your counsel. I've decided to place Adam Milligan in the custody of Castiel Custos with the intention that this becomes a permanent placement for the child. His mother, but not his step-father, nor any member of his step-father's family or acquaintance, may enjoy contact with Adam, but guardianship will be in the hands of Mr. Custos alone. That will include, at his discretion, the ability to move residence even across state lines, while remaining inside the United States until Adam reaches the age of eighteen years. Additionally, I see no reason to restrict contact with his birth father's family at this time. Adam must remain in attendance at an accredited high school until the age of eighteen or graduation.” She winked at the boy. “I like to throw that part into any of my verdicts. Just because.”

Dean snorted. “Wish some judge had said that to me,” he whispered to Jo, who squeezed his hand with a soft giggle. He turned to Castiel behind him, to find silent tears sweeping down his cheeks, and Sam's hand steady on his arm. Dean smiled to himself, and turned back around.

The judge was watching the boy. “I'm serious. Don't you go getting truant on me, kid. I'll have Sheriff Mills go pick your butt up, and I'll end that myself. No more running. You have any troubles, you deal with them like you're supposed to. You call up the sheriff. You call up anybody. But no more running. You hear?”

Castiel nudged the boy gently. Adam cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

Dean smiled.

“Well-” The judge waved at the court reporter. “That's enough there.”

The woman smirked and dropped her hands into her lap.

The judge shrugged. “All right, Jodio. I flew you in for this mess. Least you can do is get me blingoed on your mini bar.”

Jody gave her something of a salute.

“Nancy, get the appropriate files to me for signing. Jodes, you never saw a more efficient clerk than Nancy. I barely gotta do any work.”

Jody winked at the Winchester family. “Oh yeah?”

“Oh, you betcha!”

Adam blinked as the judge and sheriff disappeared around the corner of the room. “Is that...That's it?”

Jo smiled at him. “Judge made her call. She don't have to stand on ceremony to do it. This is her house.”

The clerk nodded. “If there were any rhyme or reason to the House of Donna, I wouldn't play as many roles as I do. Come on. Let's get the paperwork signed.”

***

Sam watched Castiel the entire time they poured through paperwork, court fees and fine print. He knew Kate had been hoping that the judge would restrict Castiel's ability to move out of state with Adam, but she made no move to argue. Sam's own mind was racing with the possibility this opened, but he remained quiet as well.

Adam shyly requested to have dinner out with his mother and father. Dean spoke up quickly that he thought that was a fine idea, and that he and Jo would go out on their own.

The older man leaned in to his little brother's space while Castiel and Nancy checked over everything, and whispered, “Now's the time. Go get him, Tiger.”

Sam's mouth dropped. “I don't-”

“Shut up. Go on. Make big brother proud.” Dean grinned, Jo winked, and the two of them sauntered out of the courthouse with hands stuck into one another's opposite back pockets.

Sam stared after them, feeling a giddy panic coming on. His whole life had turned upside down in a very short amount of time. He was still Sam, but everything around him had changed. Maybe it shouldn't even surprise him that Dean knew, let alone that Dean understood and supported that secret side of him. Years of being terrified that anyone, especially his family, would find out drained from him in that moment. Why had he been afraid? Dean loved him. Dean knew him better than he knew himself, and he still loved him. Why would he worry that this would be the thing that broke that? He and Dean were John’s boys, and that made them unbreakable.

He was smiling oddly when he turned around to find Castiel standing a little too close. He took a step back quickly. “H-hey!” he stammered self-consciously.

“Hello, Sam,” the man said, as though they had not been together all day.

“Hey, Cas.” He could feel his throat flushing warm.

Castiel smiled at him with a weary relief. “Sam, I owe you a drink. But we're nowhere near your roadhouse, and the judge reminded me of something important.”

Sam tried not to let his disappointment show. “Oh, she did? What? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all. I'm just suddenly remembering that my room has a mini bar.”

There was nothing that could keep Sam's grin from his face then. “Yeah? Lemme see about that.”


	12. This Has Been a Really Moving Family Reunion...

The dinner was as awkward as Adam had thought it probably would be, but he was grateful that both his mother and father tried. For the most part, they tried to talk about normal things, about Adam's favorite subjects in school, how his favorite teams were doing. No one felt like talking about the last few days. At the end, though, when he and John had walked her back to their cars, it was inevitable. 

“John, Adam, I have something for each of you.” Kate reached into her car’s trunk to pull out three heavy packages. “And I'll trust you to deliver the other to Cas.” She reached out and stilled Adam's hand. “No. Don't open it now. It's not...Just take it with you.”

Adam nodded. “What is it, Mom?”

He watched as his mother's eyes hardened in a way he had never seen before. She gave him a strange smile. “It's your step-father's bail money. In cash.”

John stood back quickly. 

Kate spoke to them both, but focused her gaze on Adam. “There's a hundred thousand for every year I kept you from your son, John. And the same to Castiel for all the time he’ll do what I should've. And, Adam, this is a million dollars. Michael's bail was set at two million.” She smirked. “He won't be needing it.”

“Jesus, Kate!” John hissed. 

“Mom?”

“I'm his wife,” she spat. “He earned this while we were married. That makes it my money too. I already went over it all with the lawyer. And I plan to give away plenty more of it to charities. In his name, of course. Then I'll divorce him and take what I can then too. He's got several accounts they'll drain to pay for the victims he and Lucien…This is my restitution for my son.” She glanced at John. “Our son.” She took a deep breath. “If he's got more when these things all wrap up in who knows how many years, I'll see that you get it, Adam. It's literally the least…” She gasped in tiny breaths and blinked at tears. “It's literally the least I can do.”

John shook his head. “No, Kate, I don't-”

“John?” She looked at him hard. “You want that man out on bail?”

He frowned. “Course not!”

“Then you take this and never talk to me about it again. If it stays with me, I'll hand it to someone out the window before I go home with it. The judge decided it cost two million dollars for that monster to walk free. So that's how much I'm taking from him to keep him locked away. There's nobody he'd like to see get that money less than you two and Cas Custos. So just take it and spend it better than he earned it.”

Adam's voice shook a little as he looked at the pain in his mother's eyes. “Mom? I love you. It might take a while, and not till you're cut off from him completely. But we'll be together again, okay? I just...I gotta be away for a while. And I'll call you. Right?”

She gave a little laugh, and ignored the tears on her own face as she cupped his in her hands. “Yeah. I'd like that very much.”

Adam smiled and hugged her. Then he stood back and took out his new cell phone. He needed to call his big brother Dean to pick them up.


	13. I'm Chosen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explicit chapter warning

The young man spoke very little on their way to the hotel. It wasn't until they were inside the elevator that Sam released the breath he was holding and moved to take his first tentative kiss. When Castiel hummed in appreciation and stepped into the man’s embrace, it was as if a dam had burst. Lust and fear battled in Sam's eyes, which refused to close while he took Castiel's lip in his bite. His large hands ran from Castiel's waist up his chest, making him shiver, on their way up his throat, to guide him into the kiss with gentle urgency. The sheer hunger in Sam's kiss would be the content of every dream and fantasy Castiel ever had beyond that night; he was certain of it.

Castiel was not an inexperienced lover. He had enjoyed more than his fair share of men in his time, and he knew he was desirable. But he had never felt anything like Sam's overwhelming craving. He found himself laughing and wrestling to get them into the hotel room and close the door behind them. Then he placed his hand on Sam's chest as the young man began to attack again, and he pushed him gently back against the door.

“Wait,” he laughed breathlessly. “Wait. Slow down.”

There was a flash of impatience storming in Sam's eyes, but he stilled his advance.

Castiel smiled up at him. “Sam? You've...you've been here before, right? I mean, this isn't your first…?”

Sam's breath was ragged, but he nodded. “No. I mean, yes. Not with…”

Realization crept into his mind. “You’ve been with women. But...you've never been with a man.”

Hazel eyes lowered. “Is that a-a problem?” he asked as he licked his lips, and made a visible effort to dampen down his desire.

“Sam,” he sighed. He took the young man's hand and led him to the bed to sit. “Sam, are you certain this is something you want? You're afraid. Aren't you?”

Sam blinked and frowned, and shook his head. “Cas, please. I never wanted nothing more than this. I never had any nerve to before; I tried not to feel nothing with you, but...Please. I want you so bad.”

“You didn't answer my question,” Castiel pointed out gently, brushing his fingers along Sam's clean-shaven jaw. He wanted to take his teeth to that, but he could wait.

His partner’s eyes fluttered shut at the bare touch. “Please,” he hissed again. “Whatever you want, I'll learn.”

His heart swelled with affection for this man. He laughed quietly. “Sam, I'm not turning you away. Okay? Believe me, I'm not. I just don't want you to be sorry about this later. I'm celebrating being given the chance to do right by someone vulnerable who means a great deal to me, to help heal old scars. Maybe I'd like to do that for you too, in a completely different way.”

The bed quaked under Sam's trembling. “You don't have to do anything for me. I don't deserve that. I don't-I don't need it. I just want one hour of-” His voice caught in his throat abruptly, and he had to start again. “Just one hour of not hating this part of me. Just one hour, just a little while of giving in to what I can't help wanting. You're a good man, Cas, everyone can see it, and I know I can trust you. And I want you so bad I can't breathe.”

He wasn't going to let this one go. The thought came to him suddenly, like a giddy angel sitting on his shoulder and telling him what to do. _Hold him, love him, and coax him into loving himself, even if it takes a lifetime. You saved Adam. You can save this sweet man, and yourself, if you just don't let him go._

“Cas?”

He reached up and kissed the worried lips. “Sam, I need more than an hour for what I want to do to you.”

The eyes widened, with more lust and hope than fear now.

Castiel grinned. “But we’ll start there.”

Sam took the words as his consent, and flew at him like a coiled spring being released. Castiel's eyes rolled back and closed as he let Sam explore with voracious abandon. The young man stripped them both with a sort of delicious, endearing awkwardness, and Castiel savored it. The mouth that descended upon him was far from clumsy, however, and Castiel could feel his body reacting to Sam's generous lips and tongue as they swept across his skin with ravenous appetite. He gasped at the way Sam took him into his mouth whole, stretched those gorgeous lips around him, and then shoved him deep into his throat without hesitation.

“Sam,” he moaned out. “You've done that before!”

The eyes raised to meet his. It nearly undid Castiel right then to see the bliss in the young man's gaze. He simply shook his head in denial. Castiel sighed happily, and placed a gentle hand in the soft, long hair. Almost without pressure, he guided Sam's head so that he moved just right, taking him deep, then easing off. It was intoxicating the way the man watched him. His mouth was full of Castiel, and he looked like he was unspeakably grateful for the gift. Instinct or years of unfulfilled fantasies coached Sam, as he loosened his lips on their way down Castiel's thick shaft, then flattened his tongue and sucked gently, hungrily, as he lifted off of it. His hands went to work below, and it occurred to Castiel that having experience may in fact be trumped by taking pure joy in one's lover. Sam may not be an expert, but he was certainly giving himself over completely to the passionate heat between them, and that was far more gratifying and exquisite.

“Sam, you're...God, you are so incredible. You're so beautiful like that, and you feel so...so good…”

The way Sam beamed at him, basking in the praise, just ripped an orgasm through Castiel, emptying him in thunderous, painfully powerful jolts, right into Sam's warm throat. The darkening hazel eyes burst wide open, and for the first time, the young man gagged a little. Castiel struggled to find his own head, to reel himself back in from euphoria, and he tugged gently on Sam's hair to lift him off, even as his whole body screamed to shove in deeper. The last of his slick pulsed into his own hand.

It was a moment before either of them could speak.

Castiel relished the sweet, tight aftershocks. He smiled at Sam, who was licking his lips and staring down at him in fascination. “I'm sorry,” he said at last, in a hoarse voice. “I've always been able to warn a man just before. You just took me apart! I'm sorry.”

Sam's tongue flicked out to curl his lower lip into his bite. He sighed contentedly, and shook his head. “Don't apologize. That was amazing. I've never...That was really amazing.”

He nodded with a crooked smile. “Your turn. You want to come into me? Or do you want…”

It was adorable that this large, strong man could continue to blush even after he had just choked on Castiel’s orgasm. “I want that, but I don't think I can. Not yet. I'd rather come into you. But if-if you don't…I don't know. Do you do that? Or do you only...I don't even know what words to use,” he laughed awkwardly.

“Sam, I switch. Most guys do, at least occasionally. And if you're comfortable with that, I'm dying to feel you fuck me.”

Sam's eyes glazed in fever at the suggestion. He was beyond words now, but he nodded.

Castiel was never much for putting on a show. But he could feel Sam's gaze painting over him, and he thought he might make an exception for this man. He reached into a bag on the dresser and handed Sam a condom, then turned onto his chest, bracing himself up with one hand, and used what he had collected in his other hand to reach behind him. He couldn't see Sam now, but he could hear his whimper at the display. As he worked himself open in invitation, he could feel Sam pushing himself up against his working hand. He closed his eyes, and pushed himself back to allow Sam access. He dropped onto both elbows and knees, and waited.

Sam pressed against his opening with a strangled moan. The large young man eased himself in, thighs trembling badly with the effort of being gentle.

Castiel smiled wickedly. He threw himself back, and swallowed Sam into him, delighting in the growling groan of surprise and ecstasy. He rocked back one more time, and then Sam was pounding into him with a steady rhythm. To Castiel's shock and delight, the man's angle was rewarding, and every crash of Sam against him earned Castiel a delicious massage of his nerves that brought him to the edge again without even a touch.

He heard himself laughing, encouraging, teasing. He had enjoyed sex with most of his partners in the past, but something about sex with Sam was more than just pleasurable release. It was fun too. Sam responded to every word and sound, not vocally, but with some countermeasure that proved to Castiel that they were entirely in tune with one another, that Sam was a complement in every way.

When Sam's thrusts began to stutter, Castiel turned to grin back at him, and the young man let out a laugh of relief and satisfaction that made Castiel's heart soar with love for him. It was such a deliverance to give in to his natural desires that Sam's relief came even before the orgasm.

But that came too. Strong hands caught hold of Castiel's hips, and held him flush against him. Sam's head fell back. He gave a great, voiceless sigh, and surprised Castiel by reaching around to grip him, sending a second series of pulsing pleasure and gasping through Castiel, which intensified his own. They rode hot waves and shudders for an indeterminable amount of time before they reluctantly let go and collapsed into the bed beside one another.

Castiel chuckled in exhaustion. “You okay?” he whispered, as he leaned in to kiss Sam tenderly.

When Sam burst into tears and reached for him, Castiel simply smiled and put his arms around him.

“I've got you,” he promised into the soft, sable hair. “I've got you, and I'm not letting you go.”


	14. It's Unbelievable

Sam was smiling before his eyes opened for the first morning since before he could remember. He almost didn't want to open them, in case it wasn't real, in case the way his body felt free of tension and his heart felt full of hope-in case it was all a lie. Maybe it was all a lie, he considered, but it was also a memory, and he refused to acquiesce a beautiful delusion like that one.

“How are you feeling?”

His smile widened into a grin. “It ain't a lie.”

“What?”

He rolled onto his side and ventured a peek. He sighed happily. “You're here.”

Castiel laughed. “It's my room.” He reached up and stroked Sam's unruly hair from his face. The blue eyes were soft and attentive. “Of course I'm here.”

“Cas? I'm not sure what...I mean...What do we do now?” He shrugged. “You're my brother's guardian.”

The man nodded, and licked at his lips, which made Sam want to kiss him. “Yes. And Adam will always be my highest priority.”

Sam lowered his gaze, but smiled weakly. “Yeah. I know it. It's okay. I'm not a kid, and this ain't _Brokeback_. Thank you for last night. I ain't expecting nothing more.”

Castiel watched him. “Did you see the movie?”

“No,” Sam admitted. “Nothing pegs you as a homosexual farm hand quite like renting a movie about homosexual ranch hands. I doubt the place in town even owns it. Anybody who might have a mind to see it wouldn't dare.”

The older man sighed. “Sam, I haven't been closeted since I was fourteen, and that was just because I was still figuring things out. Even Adam knows I'm gay.”

He shook his head a little on the pillow, and wouldn't meet his lover's eyes. “I don't know what you must think of me, in that case.”

“What do you think of me?”

Weariness welled up in him, shaped like tears, and one slipped out as he turned onto his back to stare at the ceiling. “I think you're the bravest man I ever met. I listened to you tell Lucien Arch to come find you because you weren't giving up a kid to a monster. You told him he wasn't taking Adam, that you wouldn't let him. You were so afraid of what he was going to do to you, but it didn't change your answer. He scared you to death, and you didn't back down. I looked in Lucien’s eyes. He's the scariest son of a bitch I ever saw. And you were ready to take whatever pain he and his brother had planned for you, just to give Adam a head start.”

“You were the one who put them in a cage, Sam.”

He smiled a little. “It don't matter what I did. What matters is what you were willing to do.”

Castiel put his hand on Sam's bare chest. “I was afraid,” he agreed in a whisper. “Last night was the first time I didn't dream of him since that phone call. And I think it's because you were here. The only man who ever took on the Arch brothers and won.”

“I had help. A lot of it.”

But the man shook his head, and then his lips were on Sam's.

Sam felt panic rising in him. Every kiss sealed him in, like coffin nails. He let himself melt into this one, soaked in the gentle strength of this man. But then he squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath to get his head back. “Okay. No. I gotta...Please.” He sat up. “Please.”

Castiel watched him lift himself out of the bed, and seek out his clothes to begin dressing. “You're upset. Why?”

He blinked at tears, and tried to laugh. “I’m guessing you never kissed you before, so lemme educate you on what it's like on this end.”

The man waited with narrowing eyes.

“It's incredible. It's everything. It's...it's what everybody wrote about in them poems all of us hated reading in high school.”

Castiel smiled softly. “I enjoy poetry.”

Of course he did. “Of course you do. Of course. Because you're damn near perfect, and anyway, they're all about you. Your kiss is...And I can't. It'll bury me. I've clawed out of some fucking deep holes in my life, and I know this is one I can't crawl out of without losing my damn soul. So I'd like to leave with what's left of it intact, along with anything else you ain't broken yet.”

His lover licked those delicious lips again, and Sam found himself mirroring the movement with a desperate, building hunger, unable to shift his gaze from that pink mouth.

“Please,” he added for no reason.

Castiel sighed. “Sam, why are you leaving at all? I told you. I've got you.”

The tears were choking him.

“I'm your brother's guardian, Sam. Let me be yours too. I'm not going to let you get hurt.” Castiel sat up slowly, as if he were worried the movement might startle the whitetail buck in front of him. He even put his palms out. “Sam, I've already fallen for you. So if you're afraid this isn't mutual…”

“Of course it ain't! What?”

Castiel frowned. The sheets pooled in his lap, leaving his chest and shoulders bare.

It was amazing to Sam that the man didn't seem self-conscious at all in his nakedness. Not that he wasn't gorgeous, because he certainly was. But Sam had always hated being exposed in any way, as if he couldn't trust his own body not to betray him somehow. In contrast, Dean was practically conceited with his certainty that he and Jo were the hottest humans on earth; Jo agreed. Quiet Castiel was simply comfortable in his own skin, confident in who he was and what he was made of. It was surprisingly sexy, and yet another reason Sam needed to get out of this hotel and back to reality as soon as possible.

“Sam, I don't understand.”

Sam forced his eyes away from the shoulders. “What?” he said again, with a hint of frustration in his voice. This man was making him lose his mind. He would be heartbroken, soulless _and_ brainless if he didn't get moving out of this place. It was already becoming hard to breathe.

“You said of course it isn't mutual. Why would you...Sam, wait. Stop.”

The movement was swift and graceful, and Sam got the impression again that he was watching someone trained to dance or fight. A moment later, it was clear which. Castiel caught hold of Sam's wrist, and the younger man's twisted emotions and reflexes won out over his common sense, and he threw the opposite fist.

Castiel lifted Sam's wrist high above their heads, and spun him so that he was captured from behind in a tight embrace.

He gave a very undignified yelp.

The husky, whispered voice and hot breath was just below his ear. “Sam, stop this. I know you're angry. You have a right to be angry. But not at me. Do you understand?”

Sam's heart was pounding, and there was no hiding that from a man whose arms were tight about his chest, whose own chest was flush with his back, whose lips were at his throat. He felt himself melting back into those strong arms. “I don't want to be angry,” he breathed. “I don't mean to be.”

“But it's all that keeps you from being hurt. I know. Sam, I know. You woke up so happy, and then you decided that I was going to hurt you. You panicked. That made you angry with yourself. And I stopped you from running, and that made you angry with me. But you need to stop. Stop and talk.”

He gasped in his breath through a throat that continued to try to close on him. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I nearly-nearly hit you…”

“Shh. You didn't.”

“I would have.”

“You won't.”

His eyes closed. “You don't know me. You don't know nothing about me.”

Castiel sighed, and loosened his grip on the man. He turned him again, with that strange, wonderful grace that made every movement in his arms feel like a dance, and looked up into his eyes. “I know I want to know everything. I know last night told me everything I need to know. I know you should let me love you, and I know I want to be loved by you. I know you deserve the chance, and so do I.”

Sam whimpered with want as the man reached up to kiss him. “You don't know me,” he repeated. “I ain't…”

“Shh,” he hissed again. “You are. You can. You chased away my nightmares. Let me do the same for you.”

“I am the nightmare,” he sobbed. Before he realized it, Castiel had coaxed him back to sit beside him on the bed. “I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm angry all the time...and I don't know why. I hurt everyone I love. It wasn't long ago that I…There was a girl. A woman. I blame her for everything, but the truth is, she handed me gasoline, and I soaked in it, and then I dove headlong into the nearest flame. I just want to-I wanna let it burn me up. I want something to turn me to fucking ash. It's the only way I know I won't be able to hurt my family no more. For-for so many years, I just felt like I'm never going to…” His eyes rolled up to stare blindly toward heaven. “I ain't clean. And I got to find a way to burn it out. Till then...I can't. I just can't.”

Castiel nodded sadly. “Sam, I can't fix that.”

His sobs turned violent. He was shaking so hard he heard his teeth chatter.

“But I can fight it with you.”

It was the strangest thing to say. With just a handful of words, Sam felt the whole world breathe a sigh of grateful relief. He grasped hold of his courage and looked at his lover.

He was waiting patiently. “I have you, Sam. I told you. I'm not letting you go. Whatever you're feeling right now is all right. It's how you choose to act on those feelings that makes you the man you hate or the man you want to be. And either way, you'll be the man I love. You'll be the man who saved the lives of a stranger and a boy he didn't even know. You'll still be the best, most sincere lover I've ever had, and you'll be the same complicated contradiction that you were when I first met you. You're stronger and smarter than you give yourself credit for. And so am I. So whatever you're fighting, we’ll fight it together. Whatever is holding you, I'll hold you tighter.”

His lips trembled. “Cas, how can you be so sure in such a short amount of time? I don't...I don't think I could handle you changing your mind.”

Now Castiel smiled at him. “Does that mean you're giving us a chance?”

“I don't think…” Sam took a breath. This was the same moment, he realized. It was just like the moment he decided he wasn't getting high again. It was the moment he decided he was going to walk away from Ruby’s poisonous influence. It was the same moment he decided to kiss Castiel last night in the elevator. It was a moment that could change everything, when he decided whether he was worth it to himself to do something positive and healthy. He closed his eyes and remembered Dean's smile, his mandate to go after Castiel. “Now's the time,” Dean had said. Now was the moment he invested in his own happiness. He was a hard worker, his father boasted. It was time to work hard for himself. Even if he failed, he would know he had tried, that there was a moment when he felt he deserved being put first. _Make big brother proud._

“Sam? Please. I don't have a lot to offer, and it'll be hard at first; we’d have a lot of things to figure out, but-”

He made himself nod. “Yeah. Yeah, okay. I want this. I...Cas, I want to try. I ain't afraid of hard work. And I never wanted anything like I want you. If I don't try...I'll never forgive myself. And...I promise to do all I can to be worth the trouble to you.”

The blue eyes shone on him with a fondness Sam had only ever seen from Dean in the past. “You sweet man. You're already worth any troubles you think you're going to give me. I fell so hard for you last night. I fell for you again the minute you smiled this morning. I liked you before, Sam. But in the past twelve hours, I've seen inside your soul, and I love what's there.”

Sam let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. “I've never done this. So what now?”

Castiel grinned. “Now, breakfast.”

It was a first step Sam could get behind.

***

Dean watched in amusement as Adam tore into his breakfast sandwich, and had to admit that seemed awfully familiar. “Looks like we share the same discriminating palate,” he remarked dryly.

Adam spoke through his food. “What's that mean?”

He smirked, and nodded at their identical greasy meals. “Means you got good taste, kid.”

He shrugged. “Where's Cas?”

Dean found himself smiling at the boy. Sam had told him the other day that it was hard not to like the kid. They had both tried. “Adam, how much you know about Cas? I mean, as a person, not as a guardian.”

This earned another shrug. “I dunno. He's a good guy. He works a lot. Does some volunteer stuff with, I don't know, homeless kids or something. His niece Claire was killed after she ran, like I did, and I think he always felt like that was his fault somehow. Oh, and he dances.”

Dean's mouth was open to speak, but he stopped then. “Wait. He what?”

“He dances.” Adam took another bite. “Like he used to compete. Michael's lawyer once called him ‘that flaming dancing monkey that's trying to take Adam away.’ That's the day I let the air out of his tires.”

The older man snorted. “Nice. That lawyer sounds like a douche.”

“Yeah. Mom said at dinner last night that they're bringing him up on charges related to the crap Michael's brother did. Like, association or something. Accomplice after the fact, she said, but she says she thinks it was all before the fact. I dunno. Something like that.”

“Good. So what kind of dance are we talking?”

Adam looked up from his sandwich. “I don't know, dude. Like the kind they do on that show with the-like the tango and stuff. He had a partner, Rachel, for a long time, and they won some stuff, but she had to stop, and I don't know.”

“Rachel, huh?”

“Just dance partners. He's gay, you know. Like Sam.”

Dean blinked at him as the boy continued to polish off his meal. “What-what do you know about-about-”

He snorted. “About Sam? Dude, he's been doing heart eyes at Cas since he showed up. They're probably waking up in the same room this morning. How did you not notice?”

It was at that moment that Castiel and Sam rounded the corner of the hotel lobby together.

Adam barely looked at them before finishing his juice. “Told you. That's what Sam wore to the court yesterday. Probably never went to the room he shared with Dad at all.”

Dean sat back, stunned.

“Hey, man,” Sam said as he sat down with an apple he had taken from the breakfast buffet. “Everything okay?”

His big brother laughed quietly. “Uh...yeah. Apparently everything is great. Adam is apparently...Everything is great.”

Sam smiled, and Dean could see the strain behind them, the shadows below them. But it was probably the most hopeful he had seen his brother in years. “Good. Hey, Adam.”

“Hey.”

Castiel joined them with some oatmeal and coffee then. “Hello, Dean. Good morning, Adam.”

Adam smirked. “I bet it is.” He picked up his trash and stood. “I'm going to see if I can find Dad. Wanted to ask him about something really quickly.”

His guardian nodded. “Okay. Can you be ready to go by checkout? Do you need more time? We have a lot to do, and a lot to talk about.”

“I'll be in the lobby at ten thirty?”

Castiel nodded his approval, and touched the boy’s arm briefly. “I'll see you then.”

Dean turned to Castiel with a smile and a raised eyebrow. “So, uh, Cas...Adam tells me you dance?”

Sam turned on him. “I knew it.”

Pink crept onto Castiel's cheeks, and he laughed. “Uh, yeah. I mean, a little.”

He chuckled at him, delighting in the blush he was producing. “A little? Really? Because Adam says you competed in freaking ballroom dancing.” He also enjoyed the way Sam's eyes widened. “You know, little brother, whenever I pictured you with a guy, I gotta admit, dancing wasn't what I thought of.”

It was Sam's turn to flush, and it was not the light pink of Castiel's face, but a hot red. “Dude!”

His hands went up in defense. “I'm just saying.”

But Castiel had recovered from his momentary disadvantage and returned Dean's smirk steadily as he brought his coffee to his lips. “Have you often pictured your brother with another man? I'm curious as to what it is you do like to picture.”

Sam's mouth dropped. But Dean grinned at the challenge. He liked that Castiel didn't back down. “Not the same thing you like to picture when looking at him. I tend to like thinking of me kicking the ass of a guy who tries to bust his heart up.”

“Ah,” Castiel replied calmly. “Well, speed was always my advantage in dance, so if you can land a punch at all, I'll concede. But that won't be necessary, since I've no intention of busting anything.”

“Not even a move?” Dean laughed.

“No one has done that since the early nineties, Dean,” Castiel assured him in a serious tone. “We also no longer cut rugs, in case you were wondering.”

Dean smiled happily. “Sammy, this guy is an improvement over the usual bitches you bring home.”

“How long have you known I'm gay?” the younger man blurted out in disbelief. “And-and why are you okay with it?”

He shrugged and popped the last of his sandwich in his mouth. “Apparently it's common knowledge.”

Sam's face began to drain of color. “Meg knew. Ruby too. And you.”

“And Adam. He's beyond cool about you two hooking up, by the way. Thought I was going to have to give him the talk. Apparently you do a thing with your eyes…”

Castiel snickered.

“And Dad.”

At once, Sam stilled entirely. He did not breathe nor move, and Dean suddenly got the creepy feeling that even his brother's heart had stopped.

“Sammy?” he said gently. “It's okay. Dad knows, and it's okay.”

Castiel watched his lover with worried eyes. “Sam?”

Sam shook his head. “No,” he forced out. “No, he can't know.”

Dean sighed and put his hand on his brother's back. “He does know, Sammy. And it really is okay.”

Betrayal shone dark in Sam's eyes when he stared at Dean. “You told him?”

He shook his head. “He knew. Seems Dad knew a lot of things he never told us before now.” He was quiet for a moment while he waited for it to sink in for Sam. “You okay, little brother?”

“Chuck Shirley knows,” he whispered through his teeth. “It's why...it's why I can't look him in the eyes no more.”

Dean's heart sank. “That why you stopped going Sundays? Aw, Sammy.”

Castiel's eyes flicked between the brothers in curiosity. He placed a hand on Sam's wrist, and stood. “I'll let you alone. I need to pack up anyway.” He smiled encouragement at his lover, then slipped away without another word. Dean appreciated the space he was giving them.

Sam was breathing shallowly. “When I got myself off of-When I quit getting high after high school, I was too ashamed to go to anybody else. Even you.” He put his forehead down into his trembling hand. “Especially you. And I just told him I had to...I was just so desperate, man. I told him if he didn't help me, I was just going to take myself off the map, because it was just too much anymore. I couldn't look myself in the mirror while sober, but I owed it to you and Dad to get clean before I reached a point when I couldn't no more. I told him everything, and I asked him if he thought I was worth saving.”

Dean closed his eyes against the words.

“He was the only one who knew. I-I thought so anyway. And so I couldn't go and listen to him preach and know that when he looked at me, he could see the fucked up kid that came to him that night ready to kill himself, looking for any reason not to.” He took a breath in his nose. When Dean looked again, there was a tiny quiver in his brother's lips that made him want to take him in his arms and shield him from the world. “And I begged him to never tell you and Dad nothing I told him. You knew about me getting high, and you knew I was struggling with too much liquor...still am, I guess...but I don't think you knew how bad I really got.”

Dean’s stomach churned. “Sam,” he sighed.

“Remember that couple of weeks Bobby spent in Japan? I stayed out at his place for him, to keep an eye out.”

He nodded warily.

“I detoxed on my own while I was there. He paid me, so I didn't need to find no work. And I...I just got it all out, only way I knew to. I called Meg, made her lock me in his panic room, then come let me out a week later. Guess I, uh, didn't really earn what Bobby paid me that first week. But when she come let me out, it was done.”

Dean found himself gasping for breath suddenly. The world went dark, and the next thing he knew, he was outside the hotel, leaning on the brick wall, bent at the middle, struggling to breathe, with no recollection of having gotten there.

Trapped.

Sammy had been trapped, and Dean hadn't even known. Sammy had been sealed in, and he hadn't...he hadn't…

Dean dropped to his hands and knees, gasping. “Can't…” he wheezed. “Can't…”

“I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have told you.”

He heaved uselessly. There wasn't enough air. There just wasn't enough…

“God, man, I'm so sorry. But you get it. Why I couldn't ask you to do it for me. The only one cold enough was Meg.”

The voice was reaching his ears, but he was having trouble making sense of them. “Bitch...trapped...my brother…” he hissed through his teeth. “Kill her…”

“No. No, Dean, she saved me. She-she-Look at me. Breathe.”

Dean raised his eyes to stare at the only person in the world worth dying for other than Jo. The panicked part of his brain started listening again after his vision confirmed that his brother was neither trapped nor in danger.

Sam smiled sadly at him. His hands were on Dean's face. He was kneeling beside him. He wasn't trapped. “Hey, man. It's okay. It is. I shouldn't have told-”

“You should've told me before!” Dean roared out hoarsely. A fury poured over him like ice water, and he shoved his brother hard. He stumbled to his feet, gulping for breath. “You son of a bitch-You freaking child! We're family!”

“You say that like family ain't every problem we ever had, Dean!” Sam snapped back. “Me being scared outta my damn gourd of you and Dad being ashamed of me is how I got myself screwed up in the first place, and then what made me fix it in secret like I did! Dean and Dad can't know! It's everything! I'll fix it all, but Dean and Dad can't know! They'll hate what I am, and I can't…” His voice lowered as he realized he was shouting. “They'll hate what I am, and I won't be able to stop from putting a gun to my head!”

“Because you're gay? Because you got mixed up with some drugs for a while? What would we hate? What could possibly be that bad?” Dean demanded.

Sam made a sound that wasn't a laugh, but was nearer to one than it was anything else. “I wasn't thinking right most of that whole year...I got to thinking, maybe I belong in that panic room, in a dark hole someplace. I should have burned with Mom! I should have burned instead of her.”

He could hear the crack when the flat of his palm connected with the side of his brother's face, but he felt nothing except his own pounding heart. “Don't you ever! Don't you fucking dare!”

Sam had stumbled back, but now he was approaching with wrath searing his gaze into Dean's. “Hit me again,” he snarled in challenge, in a voice that would have stopped the Devil in his tracks.

But Dean glared steadily into the oncoming storm. “I have been pulling your ass out of the fire for your whole life. Don't you ever tell me that's for nothing! You don't belong in a goddamn hole. And don't you say you shoulda burned that night. Don't you fucking dare. You're my kid brother! I can't-Don't you know that's the worst nightmare I can even imagine? You trapped like she was? I'd rather die. I’d sell my damn soul and go to hell if it were the only way to save you from a thing like that. Don't ever say that again.”

Sam shook his head. “I said I wasn't thinking right. I'm sorry. You don't know the stuff that tears up your brain when you're coming off shit like that.”

Dean stared at him, and dropped his own fists. “Sammy, I woulda been there for you. Just like that thing with Lucien Arch. I ain't never forgiving you for that stunt.”

The young man flinched like he had been struck again. “What? Why?”

“You gotta ask? You and me against the world, man! Gotta be! You just left, like you figured if Arch killed you-”

“At least it was only me,” Sam finished softly.

Tears slipped down his cheeks then. “Yeah. Like it wouldn't kill me if you got hurt. Sammy, you gotta promise me you ain't never going to put yourself in a situation like that again without me there to have your back. We're John’s boys, remember? Ain't nothing we can't handle if we're handling it together.”

Sam shook his head. “Dean-”

“I know, kiddo. Don't think I don't. I know what it's like to look in the mirror and hate what you see. But, Sammy, please. We gotta keep remembering what we see when we look at each other. I see you better than you do. And-and you see me better than I do. Better than Dad ever saw us. And now there's Cas and Jo, and they see something good when they look at us too. It's how I get through every damn day, man. I look at the mirror, and I remember that you think I'm some goddamn hero, that Jo thinks I'm a rock star. I need you to do it too. You're something real special, Sammy, and I never want to hear that you did nothing to hurt my kid brother.”

He took a jagged breath. “I'm so tired, Dean.”

Dean stepped in and put his arms around his brother tightly. When he heard the exhausted, heartbreaking sigh of surrender, he smiled over Sam's shoulder. “I know, man. Dad says you and me and him each got demons in us. That's okay. Because I'd put you and me up against a bunch of demons any day. Long as we got each other's backs, I say bring it on. You ain't alone, Sammy. We're always gonna keep fighting.”

He let the man tremble in his arms as long as he needed to. Maybe John never tolerated hugs that didn't end in pounding backs and pushing away, but Dean would always be whatever his brother needed him to be.


	15. You Came For Me...

Sam could hear Dean cackling over the ruckus of Harvelle's, and it made him smile. It was still his favorite sound in the world, because it meant everything was all right. When Dean laughed that way, it was a sign that there wasn't a problem in sight.

And, oh, the beautiful things that were in sight.

Castiel's soft eyes were smiling happily, even as his face remained stoic in concentration. Jo, on the other hand, was one big fabulous grin. The two of them were a blur of gorgeous movement, blue and blond and denim flying everywhere in a controlled, purposeful chaos.

Sam would never get tired of seeing Castiel in cowboy boots.

The Roadhouse crowd had taken to country swing like it was born to it, since the night Castiel and Jo had surprised them all with something they had worked on in secret. Ellen had given in and had a real dancing stage put in when she saw how much Jo and the patrons loved it, and that was that. Friday night was for country swing at Harvelle's, every week. Couples young and old took to the floor to try their version of the Jostiel, as it was lovingly called. Castiel had tried to stop the locals from referring to an entire, well-established dancing method that way, as though he and Jo had invented it, but it was a lost cause. The Friday night Jostiel parties at Harvelle's had become a tradition, and it brought folks from neighboring counties, to Ellen's surprise.

Sam took a long, deep breath, and looked around him. Pastor Shirley was attempting to keep up on the dance floor with an older woman named Mildred who had shown up one Friday, and had become a fixture, and a crowd favorite. Ash was dancing with a girl Sam didn't know. Garth had brought Bess, and they were giggling with one another at Benny, who was watching his feet as he and Hannah stumbled over one another. Sam gestured to Sheriff Mills in a silent offer, and laughed when she shook her head in horror. Henriksen Senior looked like he was considering making a move on Mildred as the pastor backed out to catch his breath.

He went back to watch the highlight of the evening, the highlight of all of Sam's evenings, but especially Fridays. A pair of green eyes caught his from across the floor, and he and Dean shared a grin. Each raised a beer bottle to the other, and drank, and there was no doubt what it was they were drinking to.

Castiel's sure hands caught Jo in a tight spin, dipped her down, and lifted her with that amazing quiet confidence Sam adored. His jeans and boots looked so natural that some friends had to remind themselves that Castiel wasn't really from there. Sam had even heard a very Southern “ya’ll” slip out of the man's mouth, much to his own surprise. Adam was having a blast teasing him about it. After all, Castiel had grown up in Massachusetts before moving west. Sam had been shocked to have gotten more ribbing around town about settling down with a Yankee than having settled with a man.

Sam continued looking around at the rest of the crowd. He felt generous, and even tipped his own hat at the sour faces of Christian and Lilith Campbell. They smiled back in a way that wasn't really smiling at all, but he didn't care. Maybe they were family, but they didn't have any hold on him anymore. That land was Winchester land now, and there wasn't anything the Campbell clan could do about it.

The money had been a boon to them. John had first paid off Christian outright, then handed the deed and the rest of the money straight to Dean. In a strange turn of events, when Sam moved out, Bobby Singer moved in, and he and John spent their days bitching at one another happily, and playing poker with Jody at least once a week. When John had his episodes, Bobby or Jody helped him through them. He was still getting worse, but the good times were better than Sam could ever remember them being.

Dean had invested the rest of the cash into the land. He had built a small place for himself and Jo at the edge of the property, where they could live their own lives, but still be near John. And for the first time, Dean was able to begin working his own farm. They had never had the means to do it before, but Dean had dreamed out every obsessive detail his whole life, and Sam's heart soared with the way it was all coming together. One of his biggest fears about living openly as a gay man was not being hired by the conservative folks in the county. This worry evaporated as Dean was able to hire him on full time to work their family land. The brothers worked as hard as ever, but now the yield was theirs, and the sore muscles and bruises and weariness all felt wonderful now. Sam spent Friday evenings at Harvelle's, his Saturday mornings hunting with Dean, and his nights were devoted to Castiel. He even took Adam and John to church most Sundays, if only to give the two of them time together.

Castiel had experienced a great deal of culture shock initially, but since the birth of the Jostiel phenomenon, he had found his fit in the place. He lived inside the town, where Adam wasn't isolated in too rural an area, and where he had found work as the teen counselor at the health department. He also assisted Jody occasionally with difficult situations involving adolescents. The money had enabled him to buy the small house outright, and there was plenty left over, which he was using to build a local chapter of a nonprofit which helped find and support missing children. Adam's trust was set up to give him a solid college fund and a monthly allowance that made Sam's mouth drop.

Additionally, they found a counselor for the boy in the nearest city, and he visited weekly. Castiel left work every Thursday at three, picked Adam up from school, and drove him to his appointment. Afterward, they got sandwiches for dinner, and talked, and Sam often wondered if that ritual was even more important to Adam’s healing than the appointment itself. Thursday nights, the boy was always emotionally drained, and he went to bed early, but Friday mornings found him up and cheerful. Sam was glad. He still didn't know details about what Michael had done to the boy, and maybe he never would, but what little Castiel had hinted at made Sam's blood boil. He found quickly that he was just as protective a big brother as Dean had always been.

To his great surprise and satisfaction, Sam also discovered something else. When Adam took the most advanced math and science courses available, often in classes populated by students much older, the boy came to Sam for help with homework. It was a personal pleasure to be able to teach his brother these things. He had always wondered if he would have succeeded at a higher level of education. He was happier in his life than he had ever expected to be, and these days, he couldn't imagine any life that didn't include working at Dean’s side out in the open air, with his own two hands. But knowing that he had the capability of a serious student, that he would have been successful had he chosen that path, gave him a confidence he had never felt before. He didn't want to go to school anymore. But the ease with which he understood and taught Adam's advanced math and science showed him that Adam's trajectory toward college could have been Sam's, and it turned out that was all Sam needed to know. He began reading books on everything from agriculture and physical science to finance and business, and it wasn't long before he had the confidence to take on much of the business decisions at the farm, to Dean's surprise and relief.

He even tried reading some poetry for Castiel's sake, but it seemed that being smart was not the only factor in staying awake through that stuff. Castiel appreciated the gesture all the same, and made him watch _Brokeback Mountain_ instead.

And Sam appreciated everything about Castiel. Every night, every kiss, every word from those lips, he fell in love deeper. Tonight, Sam didn't want to think about anything except how amazing life was. He had hard work, a clear head, an infinite love, and a strong family. It was all a good ole boy like him needed.

He lifted the beer bottle to his lips, listened to Hank wail about family traditions, and watched his lover dancing with Dean's.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Brothers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8016910) by [Zetal (Rodinia)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rodinia/pseuds/Zetal)




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